


The Rin and Makoto Show: Entertainment on a Cosmic Level Brought to you by Divine Intervention

by isuilde, teletou



Series: This AU was a mistake [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: (even though we're not actually sure if this fic even has one), M/M, Mortal and Immortal!AU, Reincarnation AU, the underage warning is really only for kisses, we promise it has something to do with the plot, youkai AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3135569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isuilde/pseuds/isuilde, https://archiveofourown.org/users/teletou/pseuds/teletou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Makoto and Rin are tied through time, and Haruka sleeps with everyone. Also, Rin's flower field might as well be a National Treasure and one of the World's Wonder or some sort.</p><p>(The gods think it'd be funny to tie Makoto and Rin through lifetimes. They open bets. Notify Susano-o if you'd like to place your bet. Intervening with Fate is prohibited.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heian

**Author's Note:**

> isuilde: Let me start this by saying, this was not what we planned for, but I'm really glad we did this. I learned so many things, you have no idea.
> 
> hal_1: "Hey, let's do a harmless little collab to pass time!" a Haruichi had once said. This was the end result. I'm sorry.
> 
> Proper warning/apology of sorts: We're aware that we're bullshitting so many things for plot's convenience, including the concept of reincarnation itself. No offense intended.
> 
> This is also unbeta-ed because we decided not to doom anyone else with this. Proofreading was done many times, but English aren't our native language, so forgive any grammar mistakes you see.

"Good morning, Makoto-chan."

Makoto looks up from sweeping fallen leaves. Broom still in his hands, he smiles and bows deep. "Good morning, Tamura-san!" 

"Oh, that's right!" Tamura-san brings a hand to her mouth. "I should call you Head Priest now, shouldn't I?" 

"No, no, that's not necessary! Nothing's really changed, with a temple this small. You can call me as you have before."

Tamura-san laughs good-naturedly as she makes her way towards the saisenbako. She passes Makoto with a small, knowing smile. "You never know, Makoto-chan. Change comes when you least expect it to."

The bell's jangles cut through the air, resounding, reverberating.

 

**―― **- o0o ――-****

 

The rhythmic  _click-clack_ of his _geta_ accompanies his slow climb up the stone steps. He breathes, an intake of air that makes his chest swell. He takes a step, a soft exhale passes his lips and weaves into the wind.

At the corner of his eyes, a familiar scenery passes by. A gentle rustle of trees, hues of green, an endless stretch upwards. It unfolds, fanning into the soft blue sky.

The edges of his eyes crinkles when he looks up. The weather's great today, too.

He passes the torii, the main shrine, and continues into the forest.

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

"Good morning," Makoto whispers, kneeling in front of a small wooden shrine on the ground. "Please watch over us this year, too."

He sets down a posy of hawthorns and a basket of apricots. With a small smile, he claps, once, twice, then closes his eyes. Head bowed, he holds his hands together in a prayer.

Against his cheeks, a gentle wisp. A ghostly touch.

A puff of breath, warmth grazed his skin.

His eyes flutters open, and he sees bright,  _bright_ red.

His heart caught in his throat, the smallest of a gasp leaves his mouth.

Enveloped in cascading crimsons, he finds himself nearly drowning. A cat-like grin behind a flurry of cherry blossoms, just a hair's breadth away.

"Finally, huh?"

 

**―― **o0o――-****

 

Makoto keeps visiting, the next day and the day after, to see the mesmerizing youkai from the cherry blossom tree, amaranth in an endless tangle. 

 

**―― **o0o― ―-****

  
"Good morning, Tamura-san!" Makoto says, running about the temple yard, setting his broom by the _chouzuya_ before grabbing a basket full of peaches.

"Oh, my, aren't you busy this morning?" Tamura-san walks over to the  _chouzubachi_ , taking a wooden dipper set atop the basin.

"I'm sorry!" He stops in his tracks and bows. Peaches tumble from the basket in his arms to the ground and he jolts, clambering to pick them up. "I have some errands to do. Please take your time!"

"Hmm..." An indulgent hum as water falls in a steady stream from the dipper into her hands and between her fingers. Makoto listens to the quiet trickle, the sound accompanied by images of red falling in curtains around him, flooding in his vision.

"...to do, didn't you?" Tamura-san is in front of him now, looking at him curiously.

Makoto feels his cheeks warm at being caught daydreaming. "Pardon?"

"Your errands, Makoto-chan?"

"Oh! Oh, right! I'm sorry, I'll be going now!"

The first step he takes into the footpath off the temple grounds, and he feels his heart race.

 

**―― **o0o― ―-****

 

"You know, I don't think it's very nice to live in someone else's home, even if they're not there any more."

"Bah, the god that lived here has long disappeared. I need a house." Rin grabs an apricot and bites into it. "You keep leaving me this, even when you know I'm not a god."

"I thought you might still need food." Makoto beams at him, a silly, toothy grin along with a finger scratching his cheek.  "Since you're sealed in the cherry blossom tree and can't go anywhere except to the forest. Or the flower field."

Rin catches the words unsaid, in the reds of his cheeks. A swift chop of his hand to Makoto's forehead and the boy lets out a small yelp, scrunching his face as he curls into himself, holding his hands over where he was hit.

"You don't need a reason to visit," Rin says with a fond smile. "Though, the fruits are nice."

 

**―― **o0o― ―-****

 

"Rin!"

"Hmm?"

"Riiin!"

"Yeah?"

"Rii- _iiinn _!__ "

"What is it?"

"I just wanted to say your name. You have a very nice name, Rin."

"Don't be stupid. ...  _Makoto._ "

 

**―― **o0o―- ―****

 

Rin recoils, flinches back a little when Makoto unwittingly reaches out, the tips of his fingers not quite touching, not yet.

"Oh!" His hand stiffens. "Um."

Makoto draws his hand back. He looks to the sky, then to the ground. Oh, that bed of cleome flowers over there is  _really pretty _―_ _  did they just bloom recently? "I'm sorry."

Rin fiddles with a lock of his hair, smooths it over, holding it close to him. "It's okay," he says. "I was just surprised. It's just. You know. My hair. And stuff."

"Oh. Okay," Makoto says, slowly. "Okay." He still has his head turned away, sneaking shy peeks at Rin from behind his lashes. His hand starts to move. He pauses. Lets it hover awkwardly between them. A beat. Then two. And, "Is it really okay?"

"Yeah." Rin clenches his fists. "Yeah," he says again.

Knuckles lightly knock against the back of his hand, each bump across his skin, and tension melts away from his shoulders. His fingers uncurl as Makoto brushes back the lock of hair, tucking it behind his ear.

"Your hair is so  _pretty,_ " Makoto says as he cards through his hair, lets the red strands fan out and fall from his fingers. " _You're_ pretty."

_You're―_

Rin sees the way realisation hits Makoto ― eyes wide and hand frozen still, soft pink tinting his cheeks. He's sure that he looks the same, with how he feels warmth at the tip of his ears.

_Unfair._

It's unfair that Makoto could say something like that, blurted out in a daze, a moment of having a proverbial foot in his mouth, and it does  _ _so_ much _to him. 

"Stupid Makoto," is all he could say in the end, because  _ _what the fuck was that?_ _  

 

**―― **o0o―- ―****

 

"Rin?" Makoto brushes aside low hanging branches of the cherry blossom tree, flower buds on the back of his hand. It's quiet, surrounding the tree A breeze passes through, blades of grass rustle gently, morning dew sticking to the soles of his  _geta_ . He takes a step, lets the branches fall back in a curtain behind him.

A space closed off from the world, their own secret spot.

Beneath a mosaic of pastel pinks and rich browns, early morning sunlight streaming through the gaps, a patchwork of shadows and light on the ground, dancing across the roof of the shrine.

"Rin, are you up?"

He turns to look behind him, red in waterfalls, pooling by his feet, a mischievous grin right in front of his face.

" _Boo._ " Rin is upside down.

"Oh!" Makoto clutches at his chest. "You're here. Hello."

"Did I surprise you?"

"Just a little."

"Hey―" Rin starts to say.

"Are you going to stay upside down the whole day?" Makoto cuts him off

Rin shrugs, an easy roll of his shoulders, a shift under the fabric of his kimono. It's captivating, the way the reds of his hair flutter with the movement.

"The view's nice, so why not. Besides―" Hands on the sides of Makoto's face, thumbs brushing at his cheeks. "You're handsome when you're upside down."

Sounds of steady breathing pass between them, filling the air. The morning fog thins, and Rin sees clearly, bright green eyes looking back at him.

"You are too." A soft whisper, so close, words in wisps brushing against his lips.

He leans in, a petal soft touch when they meet for a kiss.

 

**―― **o0o― ―-****

 

Makoto sees the shrine at the base of the tree, the sight of it from above unfamiliar to him.

He hears a clap, then another, and he turns. From between the branches, a mop of brown, lips against clasped hands, a mutter of prayers.

He floats down in front of the shrine, red seeping at the edge of his vision when he looks to the  _hatsuho_ on the stone altar.

He thinks he might've seen someone's back, shoulders wrapped in a sepia kimono, the expanse of their neck stretching to flicks of brown hair at their nape.

It comes to him as disjointed scenes this time, a flash of a hand reaching out, setting offerings on the altar. Kimono sleeves in the wind. Stems of early spike tails tied by a string. A smile not quite directed at him.

Makoto  wonders if he should be surprised, when he treads the wreathe of branches, parting the cluster of cherry blossoms to find himself, stay petals in his hair, looking back at him.

 

**―― **o0o- ――****

 

"Were those... your memories?" Makoto says, when they part.

Rin scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Yeah."

Makoto looks down, brows slightly scrunched in thought, fingers touching his own lips. He could almost taste the budding curiosity, the sweet longing, the slow bloom of feelings, a blossom of affection.  And a desire for more―to see more, to feel more―for  the  world Makoto sees every day, away from the cherry blossom tree.

"You've been watching me all this time... I'm sorry, it must've been lonely."

"It's fine. You're with me now." Rin buries his face into Makoto's neck, holding him in an embrace. "It's more than I've ever asked for."

 

**―― **o0o― ―-****

 

He lies down in the field, under a canopy of calliopsises. Hand outstretched towards the sky, Rin watches the clouds from between his fingers. He hears soft footsteps, feels the soft graze of petals against his cheek as someone sits beside him. A caress on his palm, a faint tingle before warmth settles between his fingers.

"Hi." Makoto smiles at him, soft around the edges, a hazy dream. His fingers curl, holding him, firm.

"Hey." He's feels light-headed, cheeks a faint pink.

"You look comfortable," Makoto says, leaning down. Their foreheads touch , then their lips . A kaleidoscopic burst of colours knock behind his eyelids ― an old woman's smile, the front   yard of the temple, a summer festival lined with halation of lights contrasting the darkness of the night.

Makoto's lips leave his skin. Rin opens his eyes to find deep green, a mess of brown framed by yellows in full bloom.

He loosens his hold on Makoto's hand, a tickle on the pads of their fingers as they slip away.

"Makoto." Arms stretched out, he loops them around Makoto's neck.

"Sleepy?" Makoto's voice phases in and out as he drifts into sleep.

"Yeah." Rin scrunches his nose when Makoto kisses the tip.

"Go to sleep." Makoto chuckles, watching Rin yawn. He lies down next to him, letting Rin press himself against him, kneading at his chest. A stray strand of red falls on Rin's face. With a fond smile, he tucks it back, kissing the top of his head. "I'll be here when you wake up."

 

**―― **o0o――-****

 

Each beginning of the year, the temple starts all over again with a purification ritual.

"I'm sorry," Makoto says. 

"Don't be. You have to do it, don't you?" Rin pops a piece of orange into his mouth. "I'm stronger than you think."

"I'll try to keep it in the  temple  grounds." He's not convinced ― visibly unsettled with how he bunches the sleeves of his kimono.

"Don't be silly." Rin almost wants to let his geta smack the side of Makoto's head as he swings his legs. He jumps down in front of him and grins. "You've done it before. I'm still here."

He  never tells him  the dark grays, static bleeding into the dim shadows of his sight, the throbbing pain that comes with every bang of the drums.

"If you say so..."

Rin probably shouldn't say this, not when he still feels the painful thrum in his heart, a cumulative memory over the years. "I'll be fine."

He flicks Makoto on the forehead.

"They'll have oranges, right? Bring me back some afterwards!"

The echoes of wooden bells roar in his ears, deafening.

 

**―― **o0o― ―-****

 

"I'll be fine," Rin mutters to himself.

He steps out of the clearing, into the forest overlooking the flower fields.

He can move his feet still, a ghost of a whisper jarring in his ears.

He can jump off the branches still, with each surge of black bleeding into his sight.

He can still take another step, further into the embrace of the flower fields, unreachable just shy tens of years ago.

"I'm fine."

 

**―― **o0o― ―-****

 

White noise filters in, with the first thump of wood against stretched leather. It grows louder, scratches at his eardrums, blood pounding in his ears.

Another strike of the drum, and  after images crowds his sight. Shadows of his hand, tense against the bark of the tree. Faint lines repeating, melding into the black that creeps at the corner of his eyes.

_Once, in times long past..._

Makoto's voice cuts through the sky. Rin starts to see static. Vision narrow s , dark grays replacing the bright colours of the clearing.

A sharp pain shoots through his head, and he has to― needs to―

_Run―_

_...will be sent to rule over..._

He stumbles over rocks, raised roots, hands clawing at the passing trees as he tears his way into the flower field, away from the crushing spiritual power wafting in the air in dull pulses.

He falls into a bed of chamomiles, showered in a flurry of white. Pieces of paper carried by the wind, from the temple and further into the forest.

A gasp shreds through his chest, and a surge of black flickers in ― the surrounding flowers only appearing as a grim silhouette to him. Rin closes his eyes, lets himself fade away with the staccato of footsteps, the resounding chorus from temple. 

_...have a hundred years added to their lives._

 

**―― **o0o― ―-****

  
Makoto runs through forest, heart beating fast, footsteps frantic. The sleeves of his  _joue_ flutters behind him, a blur of white as he goes faster, faster, until he reaches the clearing.

"Rin?" he gasps out. 

He looks around, the small space turning with him as he whips his head left, right, searching―

" _Rin?!_ "

He stops, when he hears the trees rustle as a small breeze pass by.

It's quiet, the erratic rhythm of his heart the accompanying the soft murmur of the night.

Makoto takes a deep breath to calm himself. Eyes closed, air fills his lungs and passes through his lips.

"Rin, I brought you the oranges you wanted." His head feels lighter, just a little.

"I'll leave it here, okay?" He walks backwards towards the footpath.

Makoto doesn't know if Rin's alright.

One last look towards the branches. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good night."

But he trusts him when Rin said he will be.

 

**―― **o0o- ――****

 

Makoto brings poetry to read the next day.

"It is for your sake that I seek the fields in spring."

He lets his voice ring clear across the clearing, lets the warm spring storm ruffle his hair and flip the pages in his book.

"Gathering green herbs while snowflakes fall from my hanging sleeves."

 

**―― **o0o- ――****

 

"You know, talking to the wind isn't really that much fun," Makoto says as he sits on the base of the tree. 

He chuckles when he hears a vaguely annoyed rustle of branches. "Right, right. You're there, I'm sorry."

 

**―― **o0o- ――****

 

The fruits he placed before the shrine yesterday are gone. Makoto smiles. 

"I hope you didn't feed the persimmons to the raccoons. Don't be a baby, Rin. I know you don't like them, but they'll help you recover."

 

**―― **o0o- ――****

 

He feels a cool, ghostly touch of someone not quite there. Brushing at his temples, draping across his shoulders.

He thinks he hears a whisper of his name, a sound so soft, almost lost in the wind.

 

**―― **o0o- ――****

 

Today, Makoto sees a flash of red, just behind a large branch.

_Almost, almost..._

"Good morning, Rin," he says with a smile.

 

**―― **o0o― ―-****

 

Makoto finds a ball of chestnut fur in a shrub of field mustard, its eyes wide and back hunched as if weighing the pros and cons of scratching Makoto's hand or subjecting himself to possible humiliation.

"Rin?" The cat bristles.

"Oh my god." Makoto's eyes light up, he feels his cheeks warm and his fingers tingle with the need to hug and pet Rin and maybe bury his face into his fur. "You're so  _fluffy_ ."

He did get scratched, for that. A little.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You're just so  _cute!_ " He's probably squeaking like an excitable three year old right now, but that isn't really important right now when there are much more important things at hand. Makoto coos at the bundle in his arms and taps Rin playfully on the nose. "Please stay in this form forever."

Rin swats at Makoto's hand with his paws before moving to try and bite his fingers.

"Ow― Ow― Rin, no, stop! That tickles!" He's about eighty percent sure that it was actually meant to be a threat.

"I really am happy you're alright," Makoto says, smiling.

Ears back and tail twitching, Rin sulks with otherwise bitter resignation.

"Now, now." Makoto plucks a blade of grass from the ground and waves it around. "How about we play for a little?"

"Fuck you," Rin hisses.

"Oh, you can speak." Makoto visibly deflates, like he's the one with ears and a tail. "That makes you a lot less cuter."

Rin tries his best not to feel offended because he's cute all the time,  _thank you very much._

 

**―― **o0o- ――****

 

Rin can feel his pride crumble to pieces, when he pounces at blade of grass Makoto waves at him.

 

**―― **o0o- ――****

 

  
"I meant it, though," Makoto says as he pets Rin between his ears, Rin curled into a content ball on his lap. "I was so _ _,_ so_  worried."

He scoops Rin into his arms, hugging him tightly, nuzzling in the fur of his back. "I'm glad you're alright."

A small sniffle, and he lets out a weak laugh. "I'm sorry. Now I'm getting tears all over your coat."

 

**―― **o0o――-****

 

Rin shows up looking mostly human, a few days after ― save for a pair of chestnut ears and a tail sticking out of his kimono.

"No." Makoto gives him a look of utmost seriousness, lips pulled into a deep frown. "Stay in _this_ form forever."

"Do you have a fetish you would like to share?" Rin scrunches his nose, trying to pat his ears flat against his head. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

He doesn't say anything, and keeps staring at him.

"You're serious."

"Rin―"

"No."

 

**―― **o0o- ――****

 

  
He materialises above the shrine one midsummer morning, as Makoto sets down a cream coloured  _tokkuri_ on the altar .

"Morning," Rin greets, moving to sit crossed leg in the air next to him, sniffing the strong scent hang ing  around the  _tokkuri_.  He knows this scent, even if it's not overly familiar:  _kuroki_ , black rice wine, the drink of the gods,  something the Emperor himself would also drink.  "Is that  _kuroki?_ What's the special occasion?"

"Good morning, Rin." He straightens himself, moving back to sit in  _seiza_. He looks up at Rin before looking away, sheepish. "Ah, well, why don't you just try it?"

"I hope you didn't pilfer this from an actual offering." He takes the bottle in his hand, noting the pastel greens of painted leaves along the bottom. "I think sometimes you forget that I'm not actually a god."

Makoto scratches his cheek. "I'm pretty sure you bring good luck or something, still."

"Oh?"

"Every day has been a blessing, since I've met you."

"Don't be silly. Are you still half asleep?" Rin clicks his tongue.  _Embarrassing _._ _   It's way too early to feel bubbly in his stomach. He reflects on the possibility that it's because he hadn't had breakfast yet. "...Just. Let me drink it. Do you have a cup, or do you expect me to down it straight from the  _tokkuri_ ?"

Makoto takes a  _masu_ from his sleeves and sets it in front of him. "Let me pour it for you?"

It doesn't really matter, either way. Youkai don't really need to eat three square meals a day. But Makoto's smile ― his sweet, loving smile ― is enough to leave him defenceless, doors open and windows wide, vulnerable.

And he thinks that he doesn't really mind, when it's Makoto. 

The grayish colour of the wine gleams under the morning sun rays filtered through the canopy of trees―a colour that resulted from the ash of kusagi plants added to the white rice wine ―  _shiroki_  ― to make  _kuroki_ . Rin downs the entire cup in one gulp―the taste is sharp, burns a little at the back of his throat in a pleasant manner.

No wonder it's the gods' favorite.

"Makoto," Rin says seriously, eyes hard.

"Yeah?" Makoto looks back at him, shoulders tense, eyebrows furrowed.

"Please tell the gods I'm sorry. I'm taking dibs on all the _kuroki_ you have."

 

**―― **o0o- ――****

 

Rin finds a strand of white when he weaves petunias into Makoto's hair. 

"You're getting old," he notes.

Makoto hums, teasing. "I don't want to hear that from you."

"Shut up. I'm young as far as youkai go."

"Sure, whatever you say."

Rin twirls a lock of hair, brown peeking between his fingers and slips across his skin as he continues to play with Makoto's hair. Makoto leans back against his chest, tension bleeding off his shoulder and melts into a content smile. 

"You're probably just tired," Rin says. "The temple has been requested for so many services lately."

"Yeah, just tired."

Fingers brushes against Makoto's temple, tracing over faint lines he pretends not to see.

 

**―― **o0o―- ―****

 

It really hasn't been long.

Days pass so quick, fleeting.

Rin opens his eyes one day to find something different in Makoto's smile. 

_Older._

 

**―― **o0o― ―-****

 

Makoto tucks behind Rin's ear, a stem of plume thistles. He feels a breath of his name on his cheeks when Makoto kisses him, faint, barely there, a contrast to how tight he holds on to Makoto's hands.

The words slip away, and they part.

Rin keeps his hold, not wanting to let go.

 

**―― **o0o―- ―****

 

Cockscombs start to bloom between the bushes in the clearing, the next time Makoto visits.

Rin sees the tired smile, no less sweet though worn with age, as Makoto sits at the base of the tree. Book open on his lap, Makoto closes his eyes and inhales, a short intake of breathe before his voice wafts in the air.

"Note that though we may be apart..."

Lulled into a quiet comfort by Makoto's voice, Rin feels himself drift off with the gentle autumn breeze grazing his cheeks.

"...if I am to hear that you pine for me as the Inaba mountain pines..."

Makoto turns to look up towards him, green eyes still so bright when he smiles. He nods off, a blink of black between every syllable that forms from Makoto's mouth.

"...I shall return to you."

 

**―― **o0o― ―-****

 

He wakes up to the sound of Makoto's voice. At fifty, his voice starts to take a gravelly hint. 

"Although its scent still lingers on."  Makoto pauses to take a breath. "The form of a flower has scattered away."

"What's that?" Rin asks.

"Oh, you're awake." Makoto looks up to smile at him before turning back to the book on his lap. "A poem."

Rin isn't sure, why his chest suddenly hurts with unease, why he suddenly has this urge to reach out towards Makoto, to touch him, to hold him in his arms and never let go.

He wonders if  he  had woken up in a different world where Makoto will fade away at his touch.

It's hard to move, but he doesn't try, not really. He stays, perched on the tree, lets his hair fall in streams around Makoto.

"Flowers are beautiful, aren't they? But they all wither away, one day." Makoto fiddles with a bud of burnet next to him, gingerly plucking it at the stem to place between the pages of his book.

"I'm getting a little old myself." He pats the cane propped up next to him. "But I'm happy."

Rin doesn't think he's ever felt so lost, seeing Makoto's smile ― cold dread in tides, pulling him under.

"I'm happy that I've met you."

Makoto is smiling like he's the happiest when he looks at him. A small tug of his lips outlined by wrinkles around the edges ― a reminder of his age, of the time he had spent in this world.

"I'm happy that I've got to spend time with you."

There's a distance between them when he floats down, one that he keeps, even as Makoto's hand moves to cup the side of his face

"Rin, thank you. For loving me."

"Don't be an idiot. Why are you talking about this now. I'm sure you still have a decade or two in you!" Rin tries to joke, wonders if it's to convince himself that everything's fine, that they have all the time they need, that Makoto isn't withering away right in front his eyes.

Makoto's hand feels frail against his cheek.

He doesn't let himself think of what it means, for them.

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

It gets harder for Makoto to walk. He sees the way he staggers in his steps, knuckles white around the handle of his cane.

Rin wonders if it'll just get harder later, if seeing Makoto like this already hurts  _so much._

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

"Maybe you should just―"

"No. I'm fine. I want to see your face." 

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

A stem of patrinia on the stone altar. A smile hidden beneath low hanging branches, concealed behind a sparse cluster of rust-coloured leaves.

"My only regret is not saying this enough: I love you."

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

He runs.

He shouts, lets his lungs burn. 

He wants to know, how far he could go.

Forward, forward, towards the footpath, towards the  temple,  _towards―_

He feels the stinging pain, slashing deep into his skin. He keeps pushing, thrashing under the sharp pull, stretching his arms out in hopes to reach―

His knees give out.

He's back at where he started, staring at the full moon from under dark, winding branches.

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

Makoto doesn't come the next day, doesn't see the scratches of dirt on his kimono, doesn't see the cuts along his ankles under ripped tabi socks.

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

He watches the last leaf from the tree fall to the ground, a spatter of orange at his feet.

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

Palm open in front of him, he catches a drop of snow. It melts on his skin, cold water trickling between his fingers.

Faraway chants, resounding bell chimes, he remembers himself perched on the tallest branch of a cypress tree in the flower field. He couldn't quite see what had happened, not from the distance, but he had a faint idea, when the offerings had stopped coming.

He wonders, if this time too―

He hears a familiar chime from somewhere near the temple, the sound almost faint, lost into the air.

"Ah..."

Vision hazy, blurred around the edges, and he suddenly feels empty. 

"He's not coming."

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

Rin leaves a posy of azaleas on the altar before he de-materialises, phasing into the gray sky in a glimmer of red. 

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

"I have to go tomorrow."

Rin finds that Makoto doesn't live here, in this lifetime. He lives far away, in a town much bigger than Iwatobi, only visiting once every year to see his grandmother. Every visit, Rin hears something new from him, stories of bustling shops and crowded streets. Sometimes he wishes he could go, see the sights with his own eyes.

At eight years old, Makoto hugs a kite tightly to his chest.

"I'll see you next summer, okay?"

 

**―― **o0o- ――****

 

A twelve year old Makoto apparently doesn't know how gardening works.

A bag of sunflower seeds in his hand, he punches them into the ground with overflowing enthusiasm.

"Just how many do you plan to grow?" Rin asks.

Makoto turns to him with a cheeky smile. "Enough for a whole field!"

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

It does, in a few years, end up a field. There's a spot in the middle somewhere where Makoto forgot to put seeds in, they find. When the flowers are in full bloom, they've taken to use it as a place for afternoon naps ― their own secret spot. 

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

Makoto brings him a present this year, a long piece of potpourri green silk, decorated with embroidered cherry blossoms along the length. 

"You're hair's gotten really long," he says. "It would terrible if you ever get it caught on something."

He lets Makoto tie his hair, brushing the long strands with his hands before gathering it at the nape.

"There." A perfunctory pull. "Beautiful."

Rin's glad he can't see Makoto's face. He doesn't think he can face him, with how flustered he is.

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

Rin pecks Makoto on the lips before he goes away.

Makoto looks like he's found something to be treasured.

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

Rin goes to sleep knowing that he'll see the same sky, when he wakes up. He'll see the same sky as before, and Makoto will look up to a different one.

So he waits, until the dog days come again and brings with its sultry heat, Makoto's warm smiles.

 

**―― **o0o ――-****

 

Makoto visits him almost every day for twenty-five years, except for a full month in spring just after the season of cherry blossoms rain, when he suddenly stops coming.

Rin spends the first week of that month in the flower field, pacing impatiently back and forth to the forest as the second week crawls by, and tries to step out of the clearing into the temple grounds in the third week, only to feel something in him snap and he loses himself for a long moment, phasing back into his cat form before passing out. He wakes up with a bitter feeling sinking in his stomach, hating the seal that's still strong enough to bind him to the tree, unable to take so much as one step out of the clearing, to find out if something happened to Makoto, if he's just busy or he's angry at Rin, or if he's even still  _alive._

Rin swallows. Not the first time, he tells himself, remembering the lifetimes where Makoto died somewhere far with no chance of saying goodbye. It doesn't make it less painful, though, as he grips his arms and forces himself to resign.

He'll be back, Rin thinks. _He'll find me again._

So he goes to sleep.

 

**―― **-o0o――-****

 

He wakes up to Makoto kissing him, deep and excited, and has a second to wonder how much time has passed, this time, before the memories flood in.

There's a sense of unstability, of not being in the ground, the smell of salt thick in the air and the sounds of water rushing in his ears, but above all, he feels Makoto's excitement, feels the bubbling happiness underlining each flash of scene, and Rin sees a wide expanse of blue that is deeper than the sky, glittering under the summer sun, feels the swaying of a boat and the creaks of the woods under his feet. He sees the horizon, expanding endlessly, its line shimmering when the sun leans down to kiss it, red and orange and yellow bleeding into the deep blue of the water, and Rin loses his breath completely.

He lets Makoto's lips go hesitantly―too curious not to ask and cut the image short. "What was―?"

Makoto is grinning. "The sea," he says, and leans down to kiss Rin again, and Rin sees blue, sees walls of water crashing on sand, tastes salt on the tip of his tongue―the memory is bright and vivid, too tangible in their minds, and Rin is hit with a sudden longing to go, to  _move_ , to reach out to that place―the sea,   _the  ocean,_ Makoto supplies through their linked minds.

 _The ocean_ , Rin echoes, the word familiar but the memory foreign, and remembers the distant part of the past where little Makoto once showed him a painting of walls of deep blue water. But this is different, this image of endless deep, dark blue water, of waves dancing and chasing each other, of the salty air and the feel of sands under his toes, forever burnt beautifully beneath his eyelids. He releases an almost shaky breath, dazed at the contrast of deep blue of the ocean and the bright blue of the sky.

What follows is the deep pang of being trapped, of helplessness and a sense of suffocation―he can't go there, Rin realizes as something in his chest twinges. Not now, when he's still bound so strongly to the cherry blossom tree, unable to even step out of the clearing into the temple grounds, unable to even check how Makoto is doing in his world out there―

Something about that snaps in his mind, and Rin scrabbles, pulling at the fabric of Makoto's clothings harshly as he glares. "Where the fuck have  _you_ been?!"

Makoto nearly stumbles forward. "I'm―" he stammers, and his face falls―the lines of excitement and childish awe fading from his face. "I'm sorry, Rin, it was all so sudden and I had no time to come here and tell you. I would have asked someone to let you know, but we have no one like that―"

"I thought," Rin hisses, eyes shining deep red in anger. "I thought you were dead."

Makoto pales for a second, but then realization dawns, and his expression crumples. "Rin..."

"I thought you were dead, and I'd have to wait again," the fingers clutching Makoto's fabrics are trembling, knuckles white and tensed. "I couldn't―go anywhere, I had no way or no one to ask, I couldn't―I tried to go to the temple grounds, I thought maybe, after  _so long_ , I could―you weren't coming, you just stopped coming, did you fucking know how this―" Rin breaks off, catching his breath, the pressure in his chest too much, and he releases Makoto before aiming his fist to hit the ground hard.

"Fuck you, Makoto," the word comes out in a rush of breath, weak. "Fuck you."

With a rush of fabrics rustling, Makoto throws his arms around Rin, pulling him against his chest, chin digging into the top of Rin's head. "I'm sorry, Rin," he murmurs, and the words vibrate against Rin's forehead. "I'm so sorry, I won't do it again. I won't let you not know, I promise. I'm sorry."

Rin takes a breath, represses a shudder, and lets his hands clutch Makoto's back, lets the familiar scent of incense, old woods and books envelops his whole being, lets Makoto cocoons him from the rest of his small world for once. Makoto is still in his journeying attire, he realizes then, which means he'd gone straight to the clearing to see Rin when he came home. "I'm so mad at you," he grumbles against Makoto's neck, eyes closing almost instinctively. "So unbelievably mad at you."

The lines of Makoto's body relaxes. "I didn't have time to go back here," he tells Rin, voice soft as the wind carries his words away. "It's a one-time-chance―the ship was about to set sail, I only have time to grab some things for the journey. I thought of not going, because you're here, but it's the  _ocean_ ."

"You wanted to see the ocean," Rin sighs.

"No," Makoto says. "I want to see something you haven't seen before. You wanted to see the ocean. Ever since that one time, when I brought you the drawings of the sea. Everything is so much more, Rin, so much more―I wanted you to see them. I wanted you to see, because you're the one who could never stay still, and yet you can't go out and see the sights you wish to see, and I hate that."

Rin's throat is tight as it works, trying to find the words to answer, but comes up with nothing except the jarred, painful noise that makes himself wince.   _Shit_ , he thinks, and pulls Makoto closer, tighter, and finally croaks out, "Sap."

Rin feels Makoto bury a smile at the top of his head.

 

**―― **-o0o――-****

 

They lie side by side on the field of purple rock cress―tiny petals crushed under their weight, framing the lines of their joined hands and tangled feet, a faint scent of early summer tickling their noses.

Makoto tells him stories―of the sailors he lived with in the ship, of the people he met in far lands when the ship docks to resupply, of the many fish and sea creatures he saw and the terrible rage of ocean that leaves his eyes haunted. Nobody could deny the beauty of the ocean, Makoto says with a smile, and adds, "I wish you could see it by yourself too, Rin. Someday."

Rin sees purple petals, swaying contentedly in the late spring breeze, remembers the deep blue of the ocean and the beautiful line of the horizon, remembers colours bleeding into both the sky and the sea, and lets himself drown in longing and want for a moment.

He wants to go so badly. He wants to see―a sight he's never seen before, a world he's only glanced through Makoto's memories, so far out of his reach. But he could go, one day. He wants to go, wants a world bigger than his shrine, tree, forest and flower field. He needs to go, feels the need in his bones, in the thrums of his heart, in each breath that he takes.

Rin takes a breath.

"Let's go then," he tells Makoto, tightening their entwined hands. "No matter how long it takes. Hundreds of years―the seal would weaken, I could go further without exhausting myself, and one day, Makoto―one day, let's go to the ocean that you saw."

Makoto's eyes widen.

"Together?" the whisper comes out almost in disbelief, lost in the dance of purple rock cress, and Rin laughs.

"Together." He closes his eyes, and sees them standing on a ship, together, surrounded by deep blue as the sun reaches down to the horizon. A dream, beating softly in time with his heart, suffused in his breath―like love, deep and soul-consuming, calling forth both hope and wishes. He sees more purple swayings when he opens his eyes; purple rock cress, dancing for a gaze to the future and bonds of love.

How approppriate.

"Together," Rin repeats, plucks a stem of purple petals and rolls around on top of Makoto, placing the stem against Makoto's cheek. "I'll wait for you, for each reincarnation to come, and you'll find me, and one day, we'll go to the ocean together."

Makoto's breath catches. "I'd like that," he whispers.

Rin grins almost impishly, feeling brighter than ever, braver than ever. Makoto's grin is just as bright in return, filled with hope and trust, even as he leans up and catches Rin's lips in a brief kiss.

For the first time in so many lifetimes, they both taste the beginning of a dream.

 

**―― **-o0o――-****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's hanakotoba (flower language) lessons for you:  
> Hawthorns: A new light  
> Cleome: Enticed by your appearance  
> Early spike tail: Encounter  
> Calliopsis: Childishness  
> Chamomiles: In hardship  
> Field mustard: Lively  
> Petunia: Change  
> Plume thistle: Only you  
> Cockscombs: A love that will not fade  
> Burnet: Gratitude, transient days  
> Patrinia: Hearty, ephemeral love  
> Cypress: Grief.  
> Azalea: I'm happy to be loved by you.  
> Sunflower: Ardent love  
> Purple rock cress: A future seen.


	2. Kamakura

Their first meeting in this lifetime is laced with furrowed brows and a frown marring Makoto's face.

"Oh," Makoto says when he sees him. "Hello." 

"Hi." Rin shuffles his feet and scratches the back of his neck. "Are you okay?"

A long, shaky sigh. "I'm not sure."

  
People walk past them, up the stone steps and under the   _torii._   Makoto stays where he is, sitting on the topmost step. Rin doesn't say anything, lets the silence stretch instead. A cat sneaks its way between his feet, before glancing up at where Rin stands and darts away with a soft meow. Somewhere down the road, there are kids engaged in a game of tag, their gleeful screams echoing up the hills, coiling into the sounds of rustling trees.

"You can do it, you know." He sees the attempt at a smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I remember that much, at least."

"Do you?" Rin shoots back, tone almost challenging, leaning forward but doesn't close the gap between them completely.

Makoto pulls Rin by the collar of his kimono and kisses him, hard. Memories in short, fleeting flashes rushes between them, emotions reeling as days rewind. He could almost feel the subtle touches, every brush of skin they had shared. Rin thinks of a time where they held hands, Makoto looking at him with eyes filled with adoration, cheeks flushed when he mouths to him quiet words of love.

Makoto starts laughing, harsh and broken, a cacophonous choke that grasps at his breath. His face twists, fingers clutching the sleeve of Rin's   _haori_  so tightly his knuckles turn white. Rin watches the corners of Makoto's eyes crinkle, his laughter wrenched out of him in painful barks, and Rin doesn't know that he could hate the sound of Makoto's laugh so much, doesn't know that Makoto's laugh could tear at his chest like blades of wind slicing his skin.

He stops, and Rin wants to look away, when he sees Makoto look up at him. 

"Oh, wow, now I wish I hadn't done that." Makoto moves a hand to cover his mouth.

A twitch of his fingers, and his shoulders heave with a sharp inhale. Rin could almost hear what Makoto wants to say ― he opens his mouth, forces the words out as Makoto's hand falls onto his lap. He doesn't want to hear it,  i t's not for Makoto to say.  _So, please―_  

" _Makoto, don't _―__ "

"I'm sorry."

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

"I'm glad that you agree to this, Makoto-kun," Rin hears the old man say. "I trust you will make my daughter a happy woman."

A young girl, sitting in perfect, poised  _seiza_ bows low in front of him. "If you would have me, then, I will be in your care."

"I would be honoured." He couldn't see who had spoken, but he hears the voice resound off the tatami floor and into his ears as he moves into a bow. "Please take care of me."

_Makoto's voice._

He straightens up and looks between the old man and the girl. "My family is indebted to you."

_He's seeing a memory through Makoto's eyes._

"Nonsense, Makoto-kun. Come autumn, we'll be family."

The memory clears from his vision and Rin sees teardrops on his tightly balled fists. 

_Why? What the fuck? How is this fair―_

"I didn't mean for it to turn out this way." Makoto places a hand over Rin's and moves closer, knocking their foreheads together. "I'm sorry."

"Fuck you. Don't apologise."

Makoto lets Rin cry, for the both of them ― tears that he couldn't let out himself.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

  
Makoto sits on the lowest branch of the cherry blossom tree with Rin hovering above him. He fiddles with the fabric of his hakama before looking up, not quite  looking  at Rin's face, gaze falling somewhere between his neck and his shoulder.

"Tanaka-san offered to let my family have a hand in his business, as means of support," he says. "It would help so much, I couldn't―"

His gaze flits away, down towards the ground. The constant hum of cicadas chirping floats in the air around them. Makoto clenches his eyes shut, trying to find the words in his head between the white noise.

"Our wares aren't selling. We even tried opening a shop the next town over." A pause. "Tanaka-san's daughter is very lovely. Capable." Fingers drum on his thigh. "They're in the textile business, it's very profitable, lately."

He doesn't know what to say anymore, lets everything tumble out of his mouth as he finds it harder and harder to breathe.

" _Rin―_  "

He feels Rin's hands cover his ears, sinewy fingers brushing against his temple as Rin leans in for a touch of their lips.

"In the time we have left, it'll be like we're the only ones in this world."

 

  **――-o0o――-**

 

The time left for them isn't much, either.

Makoto visits every day, but he can't stay long. Their kisses feel hurried , every short touch of their lips laced with silent apology, a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. E ach memory more fleeting  ― static flickering in before fizzling out into scratches of gray, like Makoto doesn't want Rin to see them, not when each image of the wedding planning hurts him. Between every abrupt halt of thought, between every blink of black, he sees flashes of  Makoto's daily life , marred with soft smiles and delicate hands, pastel coloured kimonos that serve as a painful reminder.

But refusing to see them also means he can't kiss Makoto, and that's the last thing Rin wants.

He's probably creasing the fabric of Makoto's kimono.

He thinks he probably doesn't care.

  
"Makoto," he murmurs into the side of Makoto's neck.  K isses him behind his ears . Grazes the skin lightly with his teeth.

"Touch me," Makoto murmurs. "Rin, please, touch me."

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

Makoto gives him a stem of scabiosa and a sad smile.

"It's tomorrow, huh?" Rin says, fiddling with the flower in his hands, bruising the purple petals into a darker hue. 

"I can still visit?" Makoto says, looking away. "It's not like I'll be gone forever."

He's not, and for that, at least, Rin's grateful, but―

"Yeah." Rin tears at a petal.

He doesn't know if he could live a lifetime with Makoto, but not really, not when Makoto belongs to someone else.

"My feelings won't change."

He knows that. He believes that it wont. He trusts him. "Hm."

Makoto leans in for a kiss, one that would be their last, before he stops himself. A step back, he covers his mouth with a hand and looks to the ground. "I probably― Maybe― I shouldn't have―"

"Yeah. No. It wouldn't be fair to Tanaka-san." He couldn't quite hide the bitterness in his voice, or the shadow that passes through his eyes.

"Or to you."

He lets Makoto caress his cheek, leaning into the warmth of Makoto's palms. He allows himself this much before tomorrow comes.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

He wonders, if there will ever be a time where he'd look at Makoto, wrapped in the crisp lines of his  _montsuki_  , from a different view. He'd turn his head, Makoto's shoulder so close to his, out of focus.   _So close, so close, right next to him._  

All he'd see would be Makoto's smile. Cheeks tinted red, a smile that's only meant for him. A promise of love as long as they both shall live.

He tries to imagine himself in a black kimono.

"Congratulations, Makoto."

He tries to imagine himself reading  _chikai no kotoba_.

"Thank you, Rin."

The image comes out a little too light, a little blurred ― a disjointed, fleeting flash of scenes.

 

**――-o0o ――-**

 

"Why do you like to kiss me so much?" Sixteen-year-old Makoto asks, almost shyly, as they both lie in the midst of blooming asters ― pale purple petals tangling in their hair, It's a hot summer, today in particular, the sun burns unforgivingly like it's trying to brand dark marks on Makoto's skin.

"That's the only way I could see the world as it is, now." Rin grins, ruffling the unruly brown strands and pulling him for another kiss. He sees an ocean of gold-yellow   ―   rice paddies and faces that slowly grow familiar to him and the sweat rolling down Makoto's jaw as he works in the field  ―  sees  the  expanse of  a  familiar blue sky, sees children's feet pattering around the house ― twins, a girl and a boy, eyes wider and more curious than Rin remembers seeing in children before he's sealed in the cherry blossom tree ― sees books and writings, listens to echoes of lessons, feels the weight of tools in his hands.

Each  vivid memory a story of their own , and Rin takes them all, takes the world Makoto sees, takes the world that makes Makoto the amazing boy that he is now.

Makoto makes a face when he lets go. "You taste like  _kuroki_."

"Good  _kuroki_ , you mean," Rin counters, gives in to the urge of stretching lazily, contentedly, until his spine ripples and his toes curl. Makoto swallows, follows the pale line of Rin's collarbone with the tip of his fingers, unable to wrench his gaze away. He leans down once more, just to catch Rin's lower lips in a gentle, chaste kiss.

A flash of youth, with dark hair and eyes as blue as the water, clad in a robe of pure white, exuding an aura so powerful that it reaches him even through memories, and Rin blinks when Makoto pulls back.

"Who was that?"

"Who was―?" Makoto looks at him, slightly dazed, before focus snaps back into his eyes. "Oh, did you see Haru?"

"Haru?" Rin shifts, lets Makoto's fingers comb the red locks splayed all over the purple petals. Makoto takes a handful of crimson strands, presses his lips against them, eyes closed, content. Rin taps on his cheek twice, getting his attention back, and Makoto grins sheepishly before dropping himself half on top of Rin, sprawled over the asters.

"You smell good," Makoto tells him. Rin flicks him on the forehead, listens to the tiny yelp he makes with a sense of satisfaction. "Alright, alright. Haru. Um, a new apprentice at the temple. I saw him a few weeks ago when I was by the river. He was swimming. He doesn't talk much, but he's very nice."

Rin narrows his eyes in mock-anger. "Are you cheating on me?"

Makoto's eyes dance. "I can't cheat with someone who's in love with the water goddess."

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

The dark-haired youth Rin is referring to is actually in love with the shrine maiden who goes to fetch water from the river in the forest every morning. Rin sees her sometimes, from the flower fields or the cherry blossom tree―catches her red scarf flapping behind her as she goes back and forth. Makoto jokingly calls her the water goddess when he teases her, but he actually calls her 'Zaki-chan', and calls the dark-haired youth 'Haru' even though his name is Haruka.

The first time Haruka steps before the shrine with Makoto, he just looks up at the cherry blossom tree, straight at where Rin is lounging in one of the upper branches, and says, "Oh, it's you."

Rin blinks. Haruka points at him and adds, "The one who comes to the school just to hover around Makoto sometimes."

"You can see me?" Rin asks, almost incredulous. Makoto beams, pleased to see Rin's surprise, and Haruka simply shrugs, bending down to put an orange before the shrine.

"Rin, this is Haru," Makoto says happily. "He's really amazing, he's going to be the best priest ever. Haru, this is Rin. He was sealed here so he's bound to the tree, but I always find him every time."

"You're tied," Haruka comments, eyes darting at something between Rin and Makoto, like he could see something they can't. Rin wouldn't be surprised if that's the case   ―   Haruka exudes such strong spiritual power that he could almost taste the pressure, the alarm resounding at the back of his head. He's Makoto's friend, though, and Rin doesn't sense any hostility, so he doesn't rise to the alarm, simply puts some distance when Haruka eyes him critically.

The asters on the field are in full bloom, swaying in the hot summer breeze. Haruka directs Rin a glare, mutters something like "So troublesome," and Rin bristles like a cat.

"I don't want to hear that from you,  _girly name_ ," Rin shoots.

Haruka's frown deepens.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

The temple is now filled with students taught by monks and priests, all living together there, including Makoto who's been attending there for the last two years. There's so much of untapped spiritual power residing in there now,  Rin was pleasantly surprised the first time he noticed that he'd been floating in the temple grounds without feeling the pull to the cherry bossom tree.

It's not an exceptional distance, but it's a start.

He takes to lounging on the temple's roof every morning, watching life buzzes in the form of youngsters   ―   quietly, at first, then they pick up pace as noon approaches, whispers in between lessons, loud chants of poems and instructions yelled over the backyard, a game of ball or hide-and-seek, the rush of lunch and the hushed gossips and discussions. It's fascinating, compared to the silent hum of the forest and the serene wind of the flower field. It's new, something Rin's only ever seen in Makoto's memory before this, and it's nice to be able to witness them by his own eyes.

He stays close to Makoto during the day, a constant company by Makoto's right side, oftentimes adding his own comments to the teachers' lessons. No one seems to have high enough spiritual power to see him when he doesn't want them to―except for Haruka, that is.

Haruka, who sits next to Makoto and who spares Rin an irritated glare every time Rin floats into the class and settles on Makoto's right side as the lecture drones on.

"He's noisy," Haruka complains to Makoto once, eyes averted from Rin's gaze. "He never stays still―it's distracting."

There's something that hangs in between those words. Makoto hears them:   _he brings change, it's too easy to get lost in his pace, he's too_ interesting  _for us mortals_ ―  and Makoto grins. "You don't hate Rin at all, do you, Haru-chan?"

Haruka turns back to his book. "Drop the '-chan'," he mumbles, and doesn't glare at Rin for the remaining hours of the day.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

There's a huge commotion in the halls of the temple.

"It's here, it's here!"

"Did you see?!"

"I couldn't see anything, Nakagawa was in the way!"

The door to their shared room slams open, and Makoto turns away from his book in time to see the Mikoshiba brothers burst in. "Tachibana, come on!"

He blinks. "What?"

"There's something in the toilet near the north classroom!" Momo gushes excitedly, arms already trapping Makoto's right one. "Come on, let's gooooo!"

Makoto balks. "What? No! I don't want to know―"

Seijuurou bodily pushes him up to his feet. "We're the only ones who haven't gone! Let's go!"

"I don't wanna!" Makoto wails, book dropping from his fingers as he struggles to no avail against the brothers. "Haruuu, heeelp!"

He could already hear the other kids screaming from the general direction of the north classroom.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

  
They enter the toilet, the clacks of their  _geta_  unnervingly loud. Cold passes through their tabi socks, a chill licks at their napes as they listen to every creak, every drip of water from the too full basin to the floor.

A shadow passes, flickering with their candle's light.

"What was that?" Momo whispers, clinging to his brother's sleeve.

Something creaks, they hear faint laughter.

"W-We should probably go back, guys?" Makoto whimpers. "Get the head priest?"

"But we haven't found anything yet," Seijuurou says. He pushes one of the stall doors open. "Nothing to see here."

The candle hisses and the flame dies out. The door rattles.

"It's probably just the wind, right, Nii-chan?" Momo says.

"There wasn't any wind, Momo." He looks back to see a feral grin in the darkness.

Seijuurou drops the candlestick, the metal plate drops with a loud clank to the floor. Their screams and thundering footsteps follow, drowning out the the maniacal cackling that comes to lose its ghostly echo.

"Oh, man, that was fucking great."

Crouched on the ground and wailing, Makoto peeks from over his arms. " _Rin?_ "

Rin wiggles his fingers in greeting. "Hello."

"That was  _you_?!" Makoto sobs. "Rin, that's horrible!"

"No." He was positively  _beaming. "_ That was fun. This is why the toilet ghosts love this shit."

"There're no toilet ghosts! It was just  _you!_  "

Rin's grin turns wicked and Makoto wishes he hadn't said anything.

"Hanako-san!" Rin turns to an empty corner. "Sorry about that. Thanks for letting me use your place!"

Makoto blanches, all the colour draining rapidly from his face.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

"Hanako-san?" Haruka looks up at him. "I've seen her."

"So she  _does_ exist!" Makoto feels like crying, just a bit.

"She has friends."

" _Haruuu!_ "

Haruka exchanges furtive glance with a grinning Rin floating behind Makoto's back and hides a smile.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

"Rin, are you still there? You better not have left me!" Makoto says from behind the stall.

" _Yes._ Holy shit. I told you I won't." Rin rolls his eyes. "Nothing's going to happen if I do anyway. Nitori won't bother you."

Nitori, the ghost inhabiting the lone toilet on the west wing of the temple they're currently in, beams up at Rin. "Do you mind if I introduce myself, Rin-senpai?"

"As long as you're gentle, I guess."

Five seconds later, Makoto's shriek echoes from inside, and a blur of white and brown barrels out of the stall and into Rin's arms.

Apparently, Nitori carving words of greetings onto the wooden wall of the stalls when Makoto couldn't see him does not count as 'gentle'.

 

**――- o0o―― -**

 

He doesn't get to say goodbye this time, either.

He could only watch as the temple burns as the civil war rages on, screaming harshly against the seal Haruka's put to keep him to the tree at Makoto's request a day before.

It hurts. He remembers Makoto's last kiss, remembers the increasingly frantic atmosphere in the temple, remembers Haruka's sharp  _you can't intervene with fate, nothing good comes with it_. He pushes against his strain, over and over as the smoke rises in the air, thick and suffocating, until he exhausted himself and surrenders to the pull of slumber.

The memory of Makoto's face flashes, so much older and wiser, murmuring against his lips:  _I'm sorry Rin. I'm so sorry._

_I don't want you to see this part of humanity._

Rin goes under.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

  
It feels like he's only slept for a short while when a powerful tug reaches into the cherry blossom tree, quietly seeking him out, and Rin starts awake.

"What the fuck," Rin says, still a bit groggy when he materializes himself above the lowest branch of the tree. The sharp bite of winter chill pricks his skin as he settles on the branch, staring down to see Haruka looking up at him, his gaze almost bored.

Rin frowns because Haruka is alone, and he can't be older than fourteen years old. Then he blinks because Haruka's aura has grown even stronger than the last time he'd seen Haruka as an old man   ―  still quiet, enveloping his figure in the subtlest of ways, but speaks of a stronger spiritual power.

Down the path to the temple, he sees constructions of woods and stones  ―  the temple is being rebuilt.

"I have all my memories," Haruka tells him, his voice taking a matter-of-fact tone.

Rin hears what he doesn't say.

_This too, is what Fate decides._

 

**――-o0o――-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your hanakotoba lesson for this chapter:  
> Scabiosa: Heartbreak.  
> Aster: Memories.


	3. Azuchi-Momoyama

He doesn't count how long it has been, but the big roofs of the temple has been looking so worn down lately.

The doors in the temple have been replaced by folding screens, when he comes to visit next time. Nitori is no longer there―he's gone, ascended, says Minami, the new ghost who resides in the toilet. Rin doesn't ask how long it has been. Instead, he goes out and floats up to the top of the tallest tree in the forest, and sees how the town changes.

Buildings with pastel-earth colours are diminishing, replaced by gigantic roofs stacked over more roofs―castles, Rin learns with a sense of fascination, made of huge stone walls and secured by the surrounding moats filled with water. Time moves on along with the seasons, and as flowers in the field change, so does the city with its tall   _tenshu_  towers at the center of the castle, looming in the middle of everything around it.

Houses have verandas now, with gardens so extravagant and beautiful, Rin actually regrets deeply that he can't yet step out of the temple's boundary to visit them.

He wishes Makoto would come soon.

 

**―― o0o ――-**

 

"Boo," Rin says in lieu of a greeting.

Haruka looks up from his book and swats at Rin's hair. "Get your hair out of my face."

"You're  lucky you even get to be this close to my hair." Rin says, before righting himself up and making his way to hover over Haru ka 's shoulder. He reads aloud the passage on the open page, "Let us two sympathize, Oh mountain cherry tree... _"_

"For there is no one other than me and your blossoms, _"_ Haruka continues.

Rin goes quiet all a sudden, mouth set in a thin line.

"Do you want me to put you to sleep?" Haruka says as Rin starts to float away, out of the hall porch and into the temple grounds. "Until Makoto comes?"

"Ah, no. The least I could do is wait for him."

 

**―― o0o―- ―**

 

He pats the trunk of the cherry blossom tree, watches it bloom without Makoto for the twenty-ninth time.

"It's just you and me this year too, huh?"

 

**―― o0o―- ―**

 

  
"He's late," Rin says to a vase of white came l lias. 

"Hmm." He hears Haruka grind an inkstone.

"Do you know how much longer?" Snow starts to fall outside, he swings his legs from over the porch, trying to catch snowflakes on the tip of his toes.

Haruka stays silent. A rustle of papers, a dull thud against the tatami.

"I hope he's coming soon." Rin keeps watching the snow fall, flopping backwards to lean against a pillar.

The sound of footsteps grow distant, as Haruka moves away. He leaves on the floor, a piece of paper to flutter in the wind. Rin catches it as it by passes him.

"Meeting on the path," he reads slowly, eyes trailing across each stroke of black ink, white clouds of breath shaping around the words. "But I cannot clearly know, if it was he."

 

**―― o0o―- ―**

 

Haruka is soaking wet when he runs up the path towards the shrine, a basket of peaches in his hand. Rin blinks as the boy drops the basket of peaches before the shrine, and then dives behind shrubs of white gardenias.

"What the fuck, Haru?" he says eloquently, dropping down to perch on the branch directly above Haruka's head. Haruka spares him a glance, shushing him sharply, eyes narrowed at the direction he came from. It spikes up Rin's guard as well, making the hairs on his nape stand up, on edge―because whatever it is that could make Haruka run and hide must be more powerful than he is, and Haruka is  _goddamn powerful_  .

And then there are faint shouts coming.

"Where did that brat go?!"

"I was so sure he went this way!"

"This is the third time today, how did he always manage to get away?"

Sounds of light armo u rs clanking grow closer as men with swords and spears step into the clearing. Below Rin, Haruka is holding his breath, seemingly trying to make himself smaller among the shrubs that hide his figure. Rin draws his hands into fists, perfectly ready to interfere if one of those castle guards moves their way, but they seem to be too busy checking near the shrine―several people breaking up from the group to check the path to the flower field and the lake.

Rin laughs almost nervously. "The fuck did you do, Haru?"

It isn't long before the people who broke away from the group come back, frustrated look on their faces as they report finding no one at the lake and the flower field. One middle-aged man, half-bald, huffs, and Rin automatically assumes that he is the leader.

"One kid!" he bellows to his subordinates. "One kid, and none of you manages to catch him! See if our Lord would be pleased with your lack of castle defence―"

"With respect, sir, I don't think he's a threat," one of the guards speaks up, one hand running through black hair. He can't be much older than Haruka himself, but he towers over the other guards, back straight and lean, with nice muscles. "He doesn't try to get into castle grounds, he's just―I'd say he's enjoying the water in the surrounding moats."

Rin blinks.

Then looks down at where Haruka is still crouching behind the shrubs.

And then looks back at the castle guards for another long moment, before everything finally clicks in.

“You swim in the castle’s moats,” Rin says, suddenly feeling ridiculous that his posture is defensive, that his hands are in fists, that every nerve in him is preparing for an attack. “You’re running away from the guards because they caught you swimming. In the moats surrounding the castle.”

Haruka mutters almost sullenly under his breath, “They’re so tempting.”

“Castle moats,” Rin repeats, shooting Haruka an incredulous look. “You’re being treated like a criminal because of castle’s moats, Haru, what the hell.” He buries his face into his palms, breathes long and deep, feeling the tension bleeds off his very being at the realization that no, Haruka is not a wanted criminal. Not that it makes this situation any better, but still, at least he hasn’t done anything bad.

But castle moats. Really.

“Fine, I’ll help you this time,” Rin sighs in exaggerated exasperation, rising to his feet before floating down to the ground. “You owe me one, Haru.”

“I’ll add mackerel to the offering next time,” Haruka says lowly.

Rin makes a face, but there’s laughter in his voice. “At least bring me proper seasoned fish, you brat.”

He materializes in his most frightening bakeneko form, voice booming, filling the whole place and echoing in the forest—  _“WHO DARES DIST_ _UR_ _B MY SLUMBER?!”—_  as his shadow crawls to cover half of the clearing, obscuring the sun. It’s a good, fun use of his energy, really, and Rin watches as one of the guards wet himself before raising up the ante, sending a vicious wind to tear through the whole clearing, howling menacingly.

He sends the guards scattering off, back towards the temple—except for the black-haired young guard, who pauses in his step to glance at the general direction of the shrubs where Haruka is. Rin doubles the intensity of the wind, and the guard falters, turning around to run away.

It takes two seconds after Rin stops the menace to give in to the hilarity of it all and breaks into an uncontrollable laugh.

“Haru!” he shouts, tilting his head back towards the shrubs. “Hahaha, did you see their faces? That was hilarious, holy shit—“

Haruka stumbles out of the shrubs, still soaking wet, shivering a little, and Rin’s laughter bubbles up harder.

“The wind was unnecessary.”

“Oh, shut up, it was fun.” Rin grins roguely, glad to have some sort of excitement after so long. “Be thankful that I didn’t ask the spirits to help. Those guards were noisy.”

Haruka’s lips twitch up. 

Rin doesn’t miss the way Haruka’s eyes glance almost casually at where the guards had gone, though.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

Months later, Haruka steps into the clearing, also soaking wet, but with a thick blanket around his shoulders.

He drops a basket of apricots and a bottle of  _shiroki_  before the shrine, glancing up to where Rin is eyeing him curiously from the higher branches. “Can’t stay,” he tells Rin, because it’s almost winter and he’s soaking wet—Rin wouldn’t be surprised if he catches a cold after this. “I have to go home.”

Rin jumps off the branch, landing lightly on his toes. “You just went to swim in the castle moats again, didn’t you?” He bends down to pick one of the apricots in the basket, inspecting it carefully. “Are the guards coming over here?”

Haruka shrugs. “Just one.”

As if on cue, the sounds of heavy steps resound from the path to the temple. Haruka doesn’t turn around, simply huddling further under the blanket, so Rin tilts his head to see who’s coming and—oh, huh.

That’s the young guard who had spoken up for Haruka. The one with black hair and nice muscles. Up close, Rin has to admit, he is very good-looking—his jaws made of firm lines, eyes quiet and yet strong.

“Oi,” the young guard says. “You said five minutes.”

Haruka doesn’t budge. “It takes five minutes to get here from the road, Yamazaki-san.”

The young guard snorts. “Whatever, let’s go, kid. You’d catch a cold.”

There’s a faint shade of red across Haruka’s cheeks, one that makes Rin does a double take. “Not a kid.”

“You totally are.”

“ _With him_?” Rin looks at Haruka, almost in disbelief. “Are you serious, Haru?”

Haruka shrugs, face impassive if it isn’t for the remnants of red on his cheeks, but his eyes are dancing.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

  
He smiles fondly, sitting against the base of the tree, facing him. Makoto isn't there, not really. But Rin could feel his presence, standing in front of him, holding his hand. His lips part slightly, a whisper –   _‘do you still remember?’ –_  comes out as an airy breath. He doesn't expect him to respond. He couldn’t. And Rin understands.

Makoto isn't there. Not right now.

He knows that.

**―― o0o―― -**

 

It rains when he wakes ― a summer shower. He slept for a while, probably. The leaves are a different colour. He remembers them orange, caramel, chestnut.

Raindrops fall on his face, over his eyelids. He turns to his side and lets an arm fall over the branch, fingers idly tracing patterns, counting ripples across a puddle. He doesn't see the shrine below him, wouldn't look at the cold, empty altar in front of it.

He doesn't want to look, and find an empty patch of grass where Makoto was supposed to be.

Sometimes, Rin thinks he isn't strong enough  _._  

 

**―― o0o―- ―**

 

In the middle of June, a sun shower, Rin jumps off a branch and feels himself   _falling, falling,_ a gentle descend. His robes flutter behind him, shadows over a small puddle of sunshine where he lands. 

His shoulder feels oddly cold. He looks at the empty space beside him, where he used to stand, under Makoto's umbrella. Makoto isn’t there; he's not even under the drizzle of rain and sunshine. So when he feels a soft knock against his head, he turns to see a small orange umbrella over his shoulder, the red of his hair curling around the ferrule.

Makoto looks up, younger than he last saw him, and he smiles. "Good morning."

He stands on tiptoes, balancing cautiously on the edge of his _geta_. “How are you?”

Rin asks, to the patch of fringed orchids by the shrine, if he's still asleep, if he's dreaming.

 

**―― o0o―- ―**

 

  
"Nyanko-san?" Makoto does that little head tilt thing and it's him,  _it's really him and he's so tiny._  

He wobbles and nearly falls forward if Rin didn't fumble to steady him.

"Whoa there. Careful." Holding Makoto by his shoulders, how  _real_ he feels under his touch, Rin's heart races, excitement bubbling because   _how long has it been_  ―

Makoto giggles, twirling his umbrella. "Thanks, Nyanko-san!"

Backscatter orbs clouds his vision, Makoto a blur of brown and orange. Rin wonders if raindrops got caught in his eyelashes

"Ah."  _Silly Makoto. "_  My name's Rin, remember?  _"_  

 

**―― o0o―- ―**

 

"How old are you?" Haruka asks.

Makoto counts to four with his fingers before  holding them  up.

"You better not have kissed him yet." The glare he sends Rin is ice cold, threatening.

"What? No!" Rin shouts. "No, wait, does that mean I have to   _wait_  ?!"

"I'm serious, Rin." His eyes harden.

"I've waited for at least a century already, Haru!"

Haruka  gathers Makoto in his arms and squeezes him tightly against his chest. "No."

 

**―― o0o―- ―**

"Ri~n!"

"Ri~n~nyan!" 

"Now you're just doing this to spite me, I'm sure."

"Rin-nyan!"

"Fuck you too, Makoto."

Haru ka  shoots him a glare, holding his hands tightly against Makoto's ears. He turns Makoto to face him, holds his shoulder, firmly, so to make sure that he understands, "Rinrin said a bad word. Don't listen to him, okay?"

Makoto's hand shoots up to his mouth as he lets out a theatrical gasp. "Rinrin!"

Somewhere in the distance, they hear Rin's piteous groan of frustration and defeat.

 

**―― o0o―- ―**

 

"I remember you," Makoto says as they walk back towards the clearing, his hand held in Rin's.

"You were really fluffy." He holds up his free hand to his head, as if they were cat ears. "Meow!"

"Hmmm." They arrive at the tree and Makoto rushes to sit at the base of the tree, next to a shrub of helichrysum and periwinkles. He pats the space beside him and Rin can't help but smile.  _Cute._

"Haru-chan taught me this, the other day!" Makoto starts picking the white flowers, stubby hands carefully braiding them together.

"I'm not very good at it though," he giggles when the chain of flowers start to take shape.

Easy chatter fills the silence, and Rin listens to everything ― the bits and pieces Makoto remembers about him, the time he spends with Haru-chan every time his parents visit the temple, bed time stories Makoto's mother had told him.

He feels something dropped on his head. Makoto is in front of him, hands outstretched, a wide smile on his face. A blur white and green falls over his face, and he sees a small part of what he thinks is a flower crown. The periwinkles are rumpled, blades of grass sticking out every which way. 

Makoto makes a show of taking a deep breath, before he shouts, all sunshine and warm gusts of wind.

" _Rin!_ "

 

**――o0o――-**

 

"Riiin," Makoto whines. "Come on out. I don't like talking to empty air." 

"No."

Makoto sighs. Changes tactics. "Even though I won't be coming tomorrow? I have exams, you know."

"I'll visit the school tomorrow or something."

"Riiiin," he whines again, doesn't care if he sounds childish. He's nineteen, yes, but when it's with Rin, it's fine. "I really want to kiss you, so please come out?"

A longer pause now. "No."

"At least tell me why you won't come out," Makoto twirls a stem of dogwood between his thumb and forefinger. "I know you're not hurt, Haru would have told me if you are. Are you angry at me?"

"No."

"You're telling me 'no' too much today, I'm hurt."

"Shut up," Rin sounds disgruntled, but something in his tone makes Makoto's lips twitch up. He puts the  _kuroki_ he brings in front of the shrine before making his way under the cherry blossom tree, folds his legs beneath him properly, and reaches inside his sleeve to pull out a small blue comb, and waits. 

Then Rin says, "Fine, if you close your eyes."

"I can't help comb your hair if I don't look," Makoto points out. That earns him an irritated growl, so he laughs and closes his eyes obediently. "Alright, alright, I won't look."

A faint breeze wind its way around him, bringing the scent of cherry blossom petals, familiar and more intimate than it should be. He feels Rin's presence next to him, feels the comb in his hand is snatched away followed by the sound of exasperated grunts, of something getting stuck, and Makoto chuckles before finally opening his eyes, staring in amusement at the sight of Rin with his hair sticking every which way, the comb stuck in one of the many tangles of the red strends, his cat ears out and flattened in helplessness, tail thumping the ground impatiently.

"Don't look, ugh!" Rin hisses, bristling, ears standing straight before hastily disappearing along with his cat tail. He throws a handful of dogwoods at Makoto's face, who just laughs harder. "I hate you so much, Makoto." 

"It's just one of your bad hair days," Makoto counters, reaching out to pry the comb loose, out of the tangle that is Rin's hair. The rest of his laughter tumbles out when Rin swat at him. "Cute."

"I will murder you," Rin threatens. Makoto pointedly rolls his eyes, running his fingers gently through the mass of red strands―all frizzy and unkempt today, which means Rin had probably spent some time in his cat form yesterday, running around the forest in the rain or something. "I'm serious Makoto, I will end you if you so much as call me cute―"

"Yes, yes, I'll still find you when I'm reborn," Makoto says absently, watches the back of Rin's neck turns red only a shade deeper than his hair and grins at himself. He resists the urge to bury his face in Rin's nape, focuses on Rin's hair and the comb in his hand instead, determined to return Rin's hair into its usual silky glory. His fingers run through the strands again, and he feels Rin lean into his touch as he presses his lips against the strands. "I like your hair."

Rin huffs in exasperation, the remnants of faint crimson still tinting his cheeks. "Whatever."

It takes one solid minute of Makoto combing Rin's hair gently before Rin starts purring, letting out his cat ears and tail subconsciously twice, and hits Makoto half-heartedly when the young man starts laughing.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

"Has it ever been short?" Makoto says as he keeps brushing, even when the tangles are mostly gone. The repetitive motion lulls them into a quiet comfort. It's relaxing, watching red part under the bristles, the comb slipping down the silky long strands, listening to Rin's quiet breathing.

"Not really." Rin lets out a small yawn. He tilts his head back, blinking sleepily at Makoto "It's always been long, I think?"

"Hmm." Makoto ties Rin's hair into its usual ponytail and nuzzles his nape. "Have you ever wanted it short?"

"It   _is_  getting a little too long. It gets tangled between the branches sometimes," Rin says, playing with a lock between his fingers.

Makoto takes Rin's hand in his and brings the lock of hair to his lips, petal soft, tickling. Rin's breath catches, a tiny hitch at the back of his throat. Red dusts his cheeks, to his ears, and into the colours of his hair. Their eyes meet, tenderness thick in Makoto's gaze as he breathes in what Rin exhales.

"I like it like this."

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your hanakotoba lesson for this chapter:  
> White camellia: Waiting  
> Gardenia: Carrying the joy, secret love.  
> Fringed orchid: I think of you even in dreams, I see you in my dream.  
> Helichrysum: Everlasting memories  
> Periwinkle: Fun recollection  
> Dogwood: Returning to you.


	4. Edo

Makoto is fifteen, a young son of the lord of the city, standing with his back straight under the cherry blossom tree, and calling out " _Rin_."

He gets no answer.

"That's your name, isn't it? Whatever you are." He steps forward, rocks on his heels, and steps back again. "I can't remember much. But I remember your name, and this place. I had to sneak out of the castle to come here, please, would you come out?"

There's an offering of   _hatsuho_  under the tree. That's not right, Makoto thinks, that's not what needs to be there. So he crouches down, carefully opens the bundle he'd snatched from the kitchen before he sneaked out, and pulls out a medium-sized bottle of sake.

"Please," he says, dropping on his knees, placing the bottle next to the  _hatsuho_. "I brought your favourite  _kuroki_."

It's funny, that the scent of cherry blossom could envelope him so strongly when it's late summer and crocus are blooming in patches leading to what looks like a flower field. There's something invisible pressing against his lips, a sensation of being kissed, and Makoto tastes something strong   ―   like spices and a hint of sweet   ―   as memories flood in shades of familiar red, in the scent of cherry blossom and sometimes a saltiness that reminds him of the beach, in the sounds of  a  summer breeze and mischievous, confident laughter, and Makoto thinks  _Rin, Rin, Rin―_  

Rin.

His fingers are tangled in long strands of red that fall all over him―tickling his cheeks, draping over his shoulders, sliding down his arm s . A chuckle resounds in his ear, relieved but teasing, and Makoto laughs, presses his forehead against the being that had materiali s ed against him.

"I thought you forgot the  _kuroki_ ,"  Rin hums, and it's like something in Makoto clicks  _home_  .

"Would you keep ignoring me, if I hadn't brought it? Just because you're in the mood?"

"I would. Haru's about to tell you to bring  _kuroki_  anyway."

Makoto twists his body slightly around, eyes widening at a priest standing on top of the stone stairs ― dark hair, blue eyes, a soul with such familiar pull ― and grins at the amused look Haruka is giving him.  _Priest Haru_ , he remembers his father introducing them three years ago at a celebration in the castle, and mentally notes to bug Haruka for never reminding him about the cherry blossom tree and Rin and  _this_.

 

But for now, he has only one thing to say.

"I'm home," he tells Rin, tightens their hold, and tried to promise silently, _longer this time_.

Much longer.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

Makoto is seventeen when Rin suddenly pops in the  _ofuro_  with him.

He screams in silence because he's too frightened and shocked, until Rin splashes at him and pounces, and the scent of cherry blossom overwhelms Makoto so much he nearly can't breathe. He goes under, limbs flailing, lips pried open with a smart tongue, stealing all of his air, replacing it with flashing images of memories  ―  today's breakfast, the thick smell of  _kuroki_ cloying in the back of his throat, Ran's thick hair done up in buns as she plays a soothing melody on the _shamisen_ , his favourite horse,   _the white sand of the beach behind the castle at night―_  

Strong arm pulls him up to the surface, and suddenly Makoto could breathe. He wastes the air in a breathless gasp because oh, there are fingers skittering down his hips―

"Makoto."

His head buzzes, but the voice pierces through, familiar and close, and Makoto's lips form a name: "Rin."

"Mmm," Rin noses the underside of his jaw, pressing close―to close, and something in Makoto's stomach curls, heat so simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar, as Rin traces undeciphered shapes and words down his hips, his thigh, up his stomach, and Makoto shudders when fingertips flicker too low.

"Rii―  _iiinn_  ..."

"Shh," Rin whispers, inhales a lungful of   _Makoto_  , teeth set against the jut of Makoto's collarbone, as his fingers curl, taking Makoto into his hand for the first time in this lifetime, and Makoto keens, arches up beautifully, legs jerking open as he gives into Rin's touch, and Rin presses, presses until Makoto moves against him helplessly, breaths coming out in tiny "oh"s and "please"s.

Makoto groans, presses up, and hauls Rin closer if possible, crushing their lips together, and something in him shatters, in rapid images of Rin's laughter, of cherry blossom branches hanging low as Rin moves above him, riding him fast and hard, of Rin's skin illuminated by the moonlight, sliding against his own, and the scent of cherry blossom so thick he loses his breath.

Rin smirks against his forehead, when Makoto's vision clears and he's back in the foggy bath, the colour of the water turning slightly milky-white, trying to catch his breath. "Ooh, you liked that time, didn't you?" Rin sounds amused. "Do you want that now, Makoto? Me, riding you, here in the water?"

A whole new heat unfurls and spreads to the tips of Makoto's fingers, and he welcomes Rin's challenging grin with his own.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

He wakes up later that night, somehow cold considering he'd gone to bed wrapped in Rin's arms and hair and now his futon is empty except for him. 

He shifts and pulls himself to sit up. It's dark, but he could smell the sea, and there's a sliver of light coming from the far corner of the room―there's Rin, perched on the wooden windowsill, face alight with a small smile and the star lights, long hair aflutter by the night breeze.

"You can see the beach from here," Rin says, sounding awed. "So this is what it looks like."

Makoto smiles. He moves, rises to his feet, doesn't care when his robe sash gets caught by his foot, slipping off. Rin turns to him, eyes appreciative and yet soft, and Makoto quietly reaches out, folds himself along the lines of Rin's body, warm and impossibly soft.

"Hey," he says into Rin's hair, and Rin just laughs.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

The castle stands tall overlooking the beach. Rin stares at the waves kissing the shore, over and over again, as Haruka teaches Makoto numbers and poems and history through spring-summer-autumn-winter. He watches the waves grow, listens to Haruka explain the secret of the moon and the sea, spends half of his time wishing to go down there, to the beach, to curl his toes in the sand and tastes the salt in the air.

  
He can't yet, though. The pull off the cherry blossom tree is still too strong for him to fight all the way down to the shore. But for now, this is enough  ―  this is alright, because there's Haruka and his tales of the world's secrets, there's Makoto who goes running down to the beach and comes back up with a handful of sand, letting Rin touch and taste and smell it, queching curiosity and impatience.

  
Seasons change, as Haruka spends more time in his temple, and Makoto's  father passes away, leaving too much power and responsibility on Makoto's young shoulders as he turns twenty-two. He bears it with a smile, as Rin knows he would, with Haruka a steadfast ally by his side. He is twenty-two, and Makoto has  _a whole city_  to care for.

"I don't know if I could do this," he tells Rin at night, sometimes with his quill at hand, sometimes with their legs tangled under the blankets. Rin lets his hair fall, tries to create a cocoon that protects, a wall that separates them from the rest of the world, because twenty-two is such a young age, and even with his smile, Makoto's shoulders still shake with the weight of responsibility and honour.

  
Twenty-six, and  a  second cousin of Makoto's stages a coup. Haruka keeps Rin away, keeps him sealed to the tree for a full week, and Rin snarls at him in anger, spits out challenges and rage and betrayal, but Haruka looks at him and says, "Trust him."

Rn doesn't wait quietly. He thrashes against Haruka's new seal, struggles to break, but Haruka is strong ― extremely strong, Rin could smell his power in the blood he uses for the seal  ―  and in the end Rin goes limp, half-resigned that he won't get to see Makoto again in this lifetime, because   _coups never leave the previous lords alive do they―_  

Makoto turns twenty-seven a week after the coup, running up the stone path and stairs and stumbling forward, eyes brighter than ever, and Rin feels Haruka's seal quietly slips away.

Twenty-seven, and Makoto is banished to the temple where Haruka lives, where Rin's shrine and cherry blossom tree stand close, but Makoto never looks happier.

 

**――-o0o――-**

  
On Makoto's thirty-ninth spring, he brings up a bottle of  _kuroki_ to the cherry blossom tree for the first time in a while with a very bright smile.

They share a cup in the flower field, watching crocus bloom all around them in an ocean of deep purple and dots of yellows, and Makoto renews their promise with a kiss.

"I, to you, forever."

Silly promises, Rin thinks, but they've made good on their words, so far.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

Their days are filled with Haruka's chants, Makoto's laughter, and Rin's happiness.

When Rin remembers, he's gripped with fear, because happiness means the time flies, and it brings them closer to another farewell. Just like the flowers that wilt when their time comes, their happiness would come to a close soon. How much longer, he questions himself, as Makoto turns forty-four. How much longer, he whispers against Makoto's ear, and receives a gentle whack for the trouble.

Rin pulls away, eyes stunned. "What."

"It doesn't matter," Makoto says with such conviction it hurts to see. "Even if I die tomorrow, it doesn't matter. I'll find you again. Always."

Makoto doesn't die the next day.

Haruka does. Quietly, peacefully, slipping away in his sleep, and Makoto breaks like Rin has never seen before, with sobs that wreck his whole body and voice destroyed by grief, clutching at Haruka's cold hands even as his students try to pry him away. They burn Haruka's body on a bright Sunday morning, and Rin floats up to touch the ashes, tries to whisper gratitude to each one that slips through his fingers.

"Haru," Makoto repeats, again and again, pained and lost. Rin gathers him into his arms, closes them off from the world, and hides his own tears into Makoto's hair.

Grief is like a family to him, but Rin never finds it easier, every time.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

Makoto is fifty, and they visit and put offerings on Haruka's grave together. Rin makes a mental note on each visit so he could ask for some offerings in return, when he sees Haruka in the next lifetime.

"I wonder why Haru doesn't have anyone tied to him through time. Like we do."

"Because he always falls in love with another mortal?" Rin shrugs. "I don't know, it's the fucking fate. You know you don't always get reborn at the same time." He leans forward to steal another kiss. "It's not like Haru could always be here, waiting, like I do."

Makoto's breath catches. 

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

Makoto is fifty-six, and he's much slower now, but they still laugh and chase each other down the flower fields, through sunflowers and crocus and cress flowers. Fifty-nine, and Makoto bounces back from a plague like it's nothing, so healthy and fit for a person his age, fingers never shaking as they trace every inch of Rin's skin, setting his nerves alight and his soul asoar. 

Sixty-one, and Makoto still follows Rin up to the cherry blossom branches, still stay past midnight in the flower fields, still presses Rin onto the beds of flowers and grass like they're teenagers, red hair splaying against the colours of blooming flowers.

Sixty-five comes and go like a breeze, and Rin takes to kissing Makoto's laugh lines every night. Makoto's eyes, crinkled and happy, stare at him with the same dazed look as he does when he's seventeen, even though he doesn't answer Rin's passion the way he used to do. But Makoto's soul still shifts at Rin's touch, still beats and races like they have all the time in the world. Seventy-six, and Makoto's breath comes shorter, tighter, sharper, but his laughter doesn't.

Seventy-seven, with the flower fields turning bright orange as the  k anna flowers greet the world, Makoto pulls Rin to tumble down like nine-year-olds, getting orange petals and grass in their mouth, limbs tangling as kisses exchanged, and memories burn in the back of Rin's mind  ―  things he'd seen by himself, things he'd seen through Makoto, the rough texture of the sand against his fingertips, the smell of salt in the air, Makoto arching beautifully under his hands―

  
And as the last of Makoto's laughter fades in the air, Rin knows―knows with a familiar sinking feeling in his stomach, one that he could never gets used to―that   _it's time_.

Makoto lies his head on Rin's lap, arms full of a bunch of  k anna flowers, a mirror of his young soul, of his heart that stays one of a child's even as he grows old, of a life spent well. He looks up at Rin, content, his hand steady as they reach up to weave orange petals among Rin's hair, and he smiles.

"Rin," he says, almost like he's in awe himself. "I love you so much."

They had fun, Rin thinks. Theirs is a love that stays young  ―  like young lovers who laugh as they play with flowers and spare one kiss for each memory made. It's a good lifetime, one that Makoto spends well and happy, and Rin doesn't think he can ask for anything else.

"Hey," he says instead, thumb stroking Makoto's cheek softly, "Don't make me wait too long next time."

Makoto hums, soft and almost inaudible, and it sounds like a promise, although Rin knows better that Makoto can't do anything about the reincarnation circle.

It's enough, though, so Rin leans down, red strands falling like a curtain over Makoto's shoulder, and steals Makoto's last breath for his own.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

"It took you how many lifetimes?" Rin asks over his cup of sake, under quiet winter night sky. The stars are hidden behind the clouds tonight, he wonders if there'd be an ice shower later.

Haruka glances at him, shoulder looser than usual, eyes less guarded, the lines of happiness stark on his face. "Don't be silly, Rin," he answers, the slightest hint of slur underlining his words. "It's not like I fall for her in every lifetime."

"You were in love with her the first time we met," Rin flicks a blade of grass at him, then grabs the  _tokkuri_ and pours himself some more of the sake. Haruka extends his hand, holding his cup, and Rin obliges the silent request.

"I fell for a lot of people. It's always different, each time." Haruka looks thoughtful. "I'm not like you and Makoto at all."

Rin remembers Makoto, in front of Haruka's grave, a lifetime ago, and the curiosity in his voice as he wonders out loud:   _I wonder why Haru doesn't have anyone tied to him through time._  

"I don't know if I'd want it," Haruka muses, each word hanging lightly in the brisk winter chill. "Tied through lifetimes. It's hard."

  
"It is," Rin echoes. He remembers a bed of  k anna flowers, remembers poems recited under branches hanging low, remembers gentle fingers running through his hair and a smile that never dims. He downs the liquor in his cup, thankful for the slight burn that pricks his throat, numbing the pain of longing. "Worth it, though."

His eyes moves back to Haruka. "So, the water goddess."

"Her name is Aki," Haruka protests half-heartedly, and Rin smirks.

"Fine. The soon-to-be Nanase Aki-san." It's amusing, to see the way Haruka's cheeks turn pink. "You love her, this time, huh?"

Haruka nods.

"She's good to you, yeah?"

He shrugs. "She's been the best."

"She'd better," Rin says lightly. "I'd be forced to giving her traumatic experience if she ever hurt you."

Haruka flicks back the blade of grass at him. "Idiot. She's a  _girl_  ."

Rin grins. "Ever the chivalrous Haru." He raises his own cup, feeling pride bubbling up his throat. "Congratulations for your marriage."

The smile on Haruka's lips is genuine.

"Thank you, Rin."

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

He finds Makoto at age six, the next time.

It's a stroke of luck, mostly, that he just happens to wander around at night and find those green eyes blinking from behind a window, familiar and beloved, and Rin feels something in his heart soars as the kid grins, arms stretching out, and childishly exclaims, "Found you!" 

Makoto doesn't remember much yet  ―  as usual. Rin floats down, listens to an enthusiastic six-year-old babbling about dreams in shades of red and cats and shark teeth, and "It's you, I know you're real, I know!", and lets Makoto burrows into his arms, relishes the small figure snuggling against his chest, and decides to wait until Makoto is nine.

He showers Makoto's room with nemophila in summer, a prayer for prosperity for the residents of the house, and watches him try to catch the petals in his hands without crushing them. Makoto plucks one that's caught by the crack on the wall, presses it against his lips, and then tiptoes to press it against Rin's own.

Rin stays unmoving for five seconds. Makoto lets the flower drops from between their lips, and kisses Rin. The memories rush in shades of blue, this time, as clear as the summer sky and the river, and Rin  _breathes_ , and the nemophila flowers in the room scatters up by the summer breeze.

"I miss you," he says when Makoto lets him go. Makoto laughs, presses his small hands against Rin's cheeks, smushing them, and says, "Found you at last."

Seven years old, Rin thinks. They find each other so early now, but time is ticking, and it's never enough.

Rin brings nemophilas into Makoto's room every summer   ―   brings them when Makoto falls ill, keeps vigil as the child is wrecked by coughs or sneezes, and Rin silently prays that Makoto's time is yet to come. He weaves nemophilas into Makoto's hair, prays that poverty wouldn't take Makoto, each day-each month-each year. The pale-white-and-blue petals put a stark contrast with the simplistic, close-to-empty room, and even Makoto's face that's more often streaked with dust and dirt. 

Money is tight for the Tachibana family, and Makoto grows up learning to work hard with his own hands in this lifetime―his feet pattering against the old wooden floor in sure steps, going up and down to help his parents with whatever he can. He grows stronger not by food but by exercise, only to watch his twin siblings taken away by a plague before he's even twelve years old. He develops muscles out of necessity, of heaving firewoods and rocks, of running errands, of fighting against muggers. 

That's how they meet Haruka this time―a tiny eleven-year-old child of a temple, stumbling as he is pushed into a dark corner of a narrow street.

Makoto snaps, holding his wooden sword that's more of a plaything than a weapon, but wields it with such experience that the muggers back off a little. Rin, because he isn't about to let Makoto and Haruka die so early when he could help it, floats above the children's head, and transforms into a crimson menace.

The muggers trip over one another when they scramble to leave, and Rin returns to his human form with a sharp bark of laugh, reaching down to muss up Haruka's hair and kisses the top of Makoto's head. Haruka returns the gesture with a half-hearted glare, but the corners of his lips is twitching up.

"It's been a while," Rin grins at him.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

Makoto is seventeen when Rin sneaks into his room at midnight and finds Makoto reading a book with a too-dim lantern. He smiles when Rin appears before him, reaching out to pull Rin close and buries his face into Rin's neck in one smooth motion.

"Put out the light," he murmurs, lips moving against Rin's skin. "We don't have much oil left."

"What am I, your servant?" Rin grumbles, but flicks a hand at the lantern anyway, before tracing his lips down from the side of Makoto's forehead to his cheeks, tilting his head in search of Makoto's own lips. Makoto obliges, follows the gesture, and their lips meet as Rin closes his eyes in the darkness, welcoming the vibrant world he's unable to reach yet, the crowds and streets Makoto sees, the emotions shading each scenes. A strong image of the temple bathed in golden lights, lanterns floating down the stream, stark against the black night, the sombre mood in the air, names painted onto fragile lantern papers. "The obon festival's gone by, already? Time flies."

Makoto licks his lips absently. "Mum cried when she puts down the twins' names."

Rin bites his tongue so he doesn't blurt out unnecessary things, like how in the last lifetime Makoto's mum had for a full hour after Makoto's death. He hadn't even reached fifteen. "You'll meet again."

"Like how we always do, huh?" Makoto flashes him a smile. It's weak though, almost hesitant, and Rin reaches out before he realizes it, one hand cupping Makoto's face and touching the edges of Makoto's smile with the tip of his thumb. Makoto's eyelashes flutter, kissing the tips of his fingers. 

"Does it ever get hard for you, Rin?"

Something in his chest seizes. "What―why the question?"

"I've been remembering," Makoto says, eyes still closed like he could recall his past lives better that way. "We didn't   ―   I can't remember how I died, how it felt to die, no, but I remember we didn't have the time to spend together a lot, last time. And the time before that, too. But the times where I grew old, where I'm with you almost every day, I remember you looking sad."

Makoto opens his eyes, catches Rin's own, and gives a small smile. "You don't realize it, but the older I get, the more often you'd be looking at me and getting this―   this dreadful look, I don't know. I remember you looking sad a lot, and I just―   it makes me think," he pauses, takes a breath, shoulders shuddering. "Am I hurting you, like this? Is it better not to―   not to find you, or―"

"Don't you dare," Rin  snaps, and Makoto flinches at the harsh tone in his voice. "You promised, Makoto. You promised that you'd always find me here, every lifetime, no matter what it takes, fuck―" He inhales, sharply, and breathes carefully through the anger and the painful grip in his chest at the idea of Makoto never finding him again, at the idea of waiting forever.

Makoto takes his other hand, covers it with both his own. "Then don't wait, if it hurts."

Something in Rin's chest freezes

"I can't do that," Rin bites venomously, too angry to explain properly. "We promised. We  _promised_ , I know you remember our promise, I know―I can't believe you'd suggest that―" what changed, Rin thinks desperately, what changed in this lifetime that Makoto doesn't want to find him again, doesn't even want him to wait―Rin pulls away, the strong need to get away from Makoto and back to the cherry blossom tree envelopes him so strongly for the first time since forever. "I'm going back."

"Rin―" Makoto begins, eyes wide, reaching out, but Rin shakes his head and wills himself to disappear.

He opens his eyes to the field of October Daphnes dancing all around him, the late autumn breeze too cold with the smell of early winter coming, almost taunting in their swayings.

 

**――-o0o――-**

He stays hidden in the tree for the rest of the week.

Makoto doesn't come.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

There's an offering of seasoned fish and rice wine under the tree, and Haruka standing before it, the young priest's robe regally draped over his shoulders.

"You're hundreds of years old," Haruka calls out, sounding annoyed. "Stop sulking."

Because it's Haruka, Rin can't not answer. "I'm not, fuck you."

Haruka looks  _this_ close to rolling his eyes in exasperation.

 

**――-o0o――-**

  
There's more offering under the tree―a bottle of   _kuroki_  leaning against its bark―because Rin is still mad and thus he refuses to touch Haruka's offering yesterday, but this time it's Makoto fidgeting hesitantly before them.

"Rin," he says, pleading. "Let's talk. I―" he worries his lower lip, looking painfully young, and Rin has to sit on his hands so he wouldn't reach out to him. "I'm going away."

That's enough to snap him forward, appearing before Makoto with a rush of panicked crimsons, hair floating down as he reaches down through the afternoon breeze for the teen. Makoto stumbles forward, arms open, and Rin drapes himself over the still-growing body; all edges and awkward angles, muscles that are not fully developed, soft jaw lines that slowly harden, and Makoto breathes out, "I'm sorry."

Rin swallows. "If you lied about the going away thing I'd―"   _be happy, so relieved_ , because he'd only just remember how precious each second they have. "I'd kick you in the balls and then forgive you."

Makoto chuckles, but his voice is sad. "We're moving away to Nagasaki." 

So far. Rin hates that he's bound to the tree, sometimes. That he could only reach as far as Makoto's house, for now. "Must you go?"

"I'll come visit. I won't stop visiting, it's―" Makoto tightens their embrace, burying his face into the crook of Rin's neck, and when he speaks next, it's laced with embarrassment. "It's painful, not seeing you. I'm sorry."

"Now you know," Rin says, managing snark despite the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Makoto etches his laughter into his collarbone. "So smug."

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

  
They go to the flower fields and lie there for the rest of the day, tangled in kisses and the scent of flowers, tasting each other and stray daphne petals and leaves and grass and the very essence of summer. Rin wonders what kind of flowers would grow here when Makoto visits him next  ―  would Makoto visit him every season? Could Rin get strong enough to reach Nagasaki, if he tried hard enough? How much energy would he spend if he strained against the spell that bound him here to the tree, so much that he'd reach Nagasaki?

"Don't," Makoto whispers, eyes wistful as he looks up from where he's sprawled on Rin's lap. There are flower petals stuck among the strands, half-crushed but still bright pink and vibrant. "I don't want to be alone the next time I'm reborn because you exhausted yourself that you can't even manifest―"

Rin snorts. "When it comes to you," he flicks Makoto's forehead. "Waiting is all I do, huh."

Makoto makes a face, but then sobers up. "So it does get hard, for you. Waiting."

This, again. But this time, Rin thinks as he leans down, hair falling in a curtain on either sides of Makoto, stark red among the pale pink-and-white flowers, he understands a little why. This, too, is Makoto's kindness―stupid and selfless as he always is, but while this is a part that Rin hates a little, it's still a part of Makoto's soul, unchanging and eternal, and Rin knows it's why he falls in love in the first place. He closes his eyes, lets Makoto's fingers tangle themselves in his hair, fingertips running down a thick lock of red strands down to where it touches the ground.

"No," he lies, just to see if lying would ease Makoto's worry a little. It doesn't, because Makoto's eyebrows knit, and he sighs. "Yeah. But I figured it's a miracle already, that we could meet like this, so I have to make the most of everything, right?"

Green eyes widen, gleams bright under the summer sun as understanding dawns on Makoto's face, and Rin watches his expression turns into one of utter awe, of pure admiration, of―

"You're really strong, Rin."

― _pride_  . Like Makoto couldn't believe Rin is his, whole and forever.

Rin grins.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

Makoto leaves their town on a Sunday, with a quick kiss pressed on the corner of Rin's lips before he steps out of his room and goes out the door to meet his parents.

Haruka comes over on Wednesday with a faux-horse made of cucumber and a white lily, hands trembling as he deposits them against the base of the tree, and then silently sits and cries under the canopy of branches and Rin's hair. The October Daphnes are slowly wilting, as the early winter bites ride on the breeze, and Rin aches to see Makoto.

He doesn't see Makoto for the next twenty years.

 

**――-o0o――-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crocus: Waiting for you, Love once again, The joy of youth.  
> Kanna: Like young lovers.  
> Nemophila: Wealth.  
> October daphne: You're important.  
> White lily: Grieve.


	5. Meiji

For five years since Makoto started working in Hyogo, Rin spends his mornings waiting at the station instead of going to Makoto's house like he's done for eight years ever since the ten-yearl-old Makoto found him at the cherry blossom tree. The burnt scent of coals and the white noise of morning rush become his friends while he waits for Makoto, who usually arrives at least fifteen minutes before his train comes to take him to his workplace. He watches meetings and farewells take place in the station―a daughter hugging her parents as her husband waits patiently, a group of kids darting out of the train with laughter echoing behind them, a young man guiding his little sister's fumbling steps into the train. He sees Haruka off to several towns too, sometimes, follows his billowing priest robe until it disappears behind the train doors and they give each other a light wave.

It's a new contrast―a constant noise and flurry of activities that Rin doesn't usually see until one day he follows Makoto and finds that the seal has weakened enough for him to reach the station.

Makoto's eyes brighten almost feverishly the first time he steps out of the train and sees Rin waiting for him with an almost rogue grin on his face. "You can reach here?"

Rin tries to tone down the proud smirk tugging his lips to no avail. "I worked hard, I got stronger, I can wait for you here now."

Makoto looks like he's this close to launching himself upon Rin, except he does he doesn't because no one else could see Rin and it'd look like he's hugging empty air. "Do you think you can board the train?"

Rin shrugs, his grin mischievous. "Wanna find out?"

**――-o0o――-**

Except it turns out he can't, yet.

The second he tries to step into the train car, something in him pulls tight, harshly clawing him back, and Rin feels the familiar snap when he pushes against the pull, trying to force his way into the train. He blinks, overcomes with vertigo for a moment and feels everything blur, and the next thing he knows, he's curling on Makoto's lap, under the cherry blossom tree, in his bakeneko form with Haruka's familiar healing energy washing over him.

"Stupid," Haruka tells him, and Makoto, eyes downcast and full with regret says, "I'm sorry."

Rin phases into his human form with no difficulties―it's easier to change back to his human form thanks to Haruka's healing―just so he could reach up and noses the crook of Makoto's neck. "Not your fault."

"I should have told you not to force yourself. I know it takes a lot out of you, when you strain yourself to reach somewhere further from the tree."

"Don't be stupid, Makoto," Rin tells him, and he's suddenly aware that his cat ears are still out when Makoto's finger traces words onto them:    _sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry_  . "Makoto, stop it, don't be stupid."

"But I    _am_  sorry," Makoto pouts.

Haruka flicks a stem of geranium at the both of them (where did he even get it anyway?), and Rin catches a strong whiff of the flower's scent before catching slight smile playing on Haruka's lips, betraying his exasperation. "You are both stupid."

**――-o0o――-**

The train slinks into the station,  trails of  black smoke a contrast against the pale blue of the dawn sky. Rin leans back, eyes searching even as the first wave of people board and  alight  the train   ―   men and women, adults and children, exhausted and fresh faces. It's still almost too early for people to be moving around so hurriedly, and Rin thinks back to the lazy times he spent watching Makoto learn in the temple or watching the blooming flowers carry seasons through the years.

It's amazing how one transportation machine could change so many aspects of humans' lives.

Rin's ears perk when he hears the familiar thuds of footsteps―this time indicating the owner's desperately running, most likely to catch the train before it leaves the station. Rin launches himself up to perch on the lamppost he was leaning against, eyes roaming each area with people milling about, trying to find the familiar brown hair that never fails to make him smile―Makoto's appearance in the morning isn't so much flattering as it is usually hilarious. Usually.

"Makoto!" He grins when his gaze locks into green eyes―Makoto nearly stumbles when he pauses, and Rin pushes forward with the heels of his feet, arms winding around Makoto's shoulder from above, He listens to Makoto's soft rumble of laughter, and snickers at the effort Makoto puts to make sure no one spares him a second look."You're late this morning."

"I'm―the twins had a problem―" Makoto lets Rin's arms settle around his neck, his shoulder, even as Rin floats behind him, until he steps into the train. "Rin, I'll be late!"

Rin reluctantly lets go. He lets his lips curve downwards, levels Makoto a disappointed look just as the train door hisses closed. "You didn't even give me a goodbye kiss."

Makoto swallows a laugh at that. "I'll make it up to you tonight," he promises, then leans his forehead against the glass on the door.  "Pick me up later?"

Rin presses his lips to the cool surface of the glass, pretends he could kiss Makoto's forehead properly, before pressing his own against the glass, in line with Makoto's. "I'll hold you to that, Tachibana."

There it is, the rare grin of Makoto's, one tinted with mischief. "Look forward to it, Rin."

**――-o0o――-**

He presses a kiss against Makoto's jaw as Makoto hands the station officer his ticket stub, enjoying the way Makoto flusters from the unseen touch.

"Welcome home," he whispers against Makoto's ears instead, takes in the slight shudder that runs from Makoto's spine up to his nape.

Picking up Makoto from the station is his favourite activity of the day.

Makoto gives a pause, secretly lowers his head, and murmurs, "I'm home."

**――-o0o――-**

"This is where I get off the train," Makoto points at the bright red dot with Shibayama Station written underneath it, on the board showing the map of train lines up on the station wall. Then his finger traces the thick black line back to the dot that says Tottori. "And this is where we are, so it's like, twelve stations away, back and forth, every day."

Rin hums, curious eyes following multiple lines criss - crossing over each other. "That's where you work?"

"Well, I actually work in Kasumi―see this?" The tip of Makoto's finger touches the red dot before Shibayama Station. "But it's closer when I take the bus from Shibayama Station, so I get off there."

Rin shakes his head. "You humans have it hard."

He's envious, though. Just a little.

**――-o0o――-**

"You're here."

Rin takes a moment to pause before turning his bored gaze down to where the familiar voice comes: Haruka stands under the lamppost Rin has claimed to perch upon, his priest robe billowing in the soft evening breeze as he directs an exasperated glare at Rin like a mother finding his kid climbing up the neighbo u r's highest tree just to steal some peaches. He throws a rogue grin at Haruka, waving his hand lazily. "Going somewhere?"

"House exorcism," Haruka replies, and waits for Rin to jump off the lamppost and lands on his feet like the graceful cat that he is   ―   a silent request for Rin to accompany him as he waits for the train. Rin indulges, movement lazy, floating down in a blur of white and red, softly toeing the surface of the ground before settling his feet firmly against the earth. He looks up to catch the old clock on the station wall   ―   it's almost eight.

"It's almost dinner time," Rin points it out unnecessarily, to which Haruka just gives a nod and a shrug. "Why couldn't you have gone when it's still light outside?"

"The spirit's clever," Haruka murmurs, but the lines of his figure aren't tensing, which means whatever the spirit is, Haruka's confident his power is stronger still then the spirit, and that he's taking this lightly. There's no need to worry, then. Rin could feel Haruka's power in the air, as usual   ―   could taste it sometimes, when Haruka forgets to reign his power back. It crackles a little today, around the air, wrapping himself, and Rin thinks, almost amused,   _he's all charged up_  .

Unless if he happens to be all charged up for another whole reason. "You're planning to drop by that guy's house, don't you," Rin's voice takes a sly note. "What's his name again―   Nao? Serigawa Nao?"

"Serizawa." Haruka scowls at him, but the fact that he doesn't even try to meet Rin's eyes betrays his embarrassment. He glances back at the clock instead, before turning back to Rin, a corner of his lips twitching up as he obviously have a counterattack. "Waiting for Makoto?"

Rin shrugs   ―  he 's not wrong. He likes coming down to the station, waiting for Makoto to come home from his workplace on the town ten stations away from Iwatobi, but that's not the only reason why he likes the station. He likes the endless movement of people, likes the constant change it brings as people come and go, likes to figure out the patterns of each wave of people boarding and getting off the train. To him, who is bound to a cherry blossom tree and could only reach as far as the station after so long, it's almost like a symbol of hope.

But yes, he's waiting for Makoto, just as he always does at this time, every single day (or at least  on  day s  Makoto goes to work, anyway).

There's a glint in Haruka's eyes when he looks at Rin. "You're like a good wife."

Rin glares at him. "What is that even, Haru." He pokes him on the shoulder, purposefully hard so that Haruka sway sideways a little and bump into a hurrying man.

"You know," Haruka says, voice soft and light, almost drowned by the white noise of the station, like Rin's messing with him doesn't affect him in the slightest. "Waiting for his husband to come home―"

"I will hit you," Rin threatens, but he sounds almost too cheerful for the threat. One hand goes up to mess with Haruka's hair, and Haruka tries to swat him away without seemingly too conspicuous about it. "'Sides, you're more like his wife than I am."

Haruka snorts, casually stepping sideways to duck Rin's hand. "I'm not the one seeing him off to work every morning, or picking him up every evening."

"I like the station," Rin defends, which is not entirely a lie. "I watch people, I did not see him off every morning or―"

"Sure you don't," Haruka looks like he's about to roll his eyes. He glances at the clock, the slightest frown settling over his face. "He's late."

"I noticed that five minutes ago." Rin says. "You think there's a problem with the train?"

"Technical problems, maybe―" Haruka begins, but by then one of the station officers is climbing the announcement stage with papers in hand, looking frazzled. Rin frowns, feeling something in his chest shift anxiously just as the officer straightens up and shouts.

"We apologize for the inconvenience. All scheduled trains are confirmed to be late. The next train from Sonobe to Tottori has been involved in an accident. We are gathering reports as we speak―"

Something in Rin's chest drops, bottoms in his stomach, and next to him, Haruka's breath catches.

"―please remain calm and contact us to provide information on your family, friends or acquaintance that might have boarded the train―"

The throngs of people shift,restless   ―   a slight change that makes the hairs on Rin's nape stand on their end. The tips of his fingers are shaking, and Rin closes them into a fist, tries taking a deep breath. It's fine, he tells himself. Nothing is certain yet. He doesn't know if it's the train Makoto is on, or if the accident is severe enough, or―

But when he closes his eyes, he feels the gaping hole opening in his chest, yawning like a black abyss,   a profound sense of something disappearing clinging to his whole being.

"Rin," Haruka says, voice tight and too quiet, and it scares Rin.

But fuck if he gives up on hoping when it's literally the only thing he could do.

"He'll be fine," Rin says fiercely. "He's going to be fine. He's only 23, he'll be fine."

Haruka doesn't say anything, eyes downcast and shoulders sagging.

Outside, the dark clouds hang.

**――-o0o――-**

Makoto comes home in the form of a death paper, with only his name and date of death written in black block characters. There's a body, but there are a lot of black, charred bodies in the burnt wreckage of the train, and city officials gather all of those in one of the big temples in the capital for a mass funeral.

The streets are lined with paintings of those who died in the accident. Makoto's family mourn in quiet tears and blank eyes, and Haruka stands at the front, eyes as tight as the line of his mouth, with Rin hovering next to him, watching the smoke tint the ironically blue sky, tasting ashes at the back of his throat. Rin pretends it's Makoto's last kiss, because Makoto's body is somewhere among the stack of charred black limbs, and even if he's nothing but ashes now, Rin knows Makoto would find him somehow.

Haruka is shaking, hands clenches into fists, eyes frustrated. He opens his mouth, throat working, but nothing comes out until his third try, and it's to say, "I bury you too many times, Makoto."

Rin closes his eyes, half-resigned and half-bitter. "I don't get to say goodbye for so many times."

So many lifetimes. So many meetings, but each isn't a guarantee that there will be a chance to say goodbye, even if they're tied despite the cruelty of time.

**――-o0o――-**

Rin doesn't come to the station for weeks after.

He sleeps instead   ―   sleep is the best way to pass the time when Makoto isn't here, after all. Sometimes he thinks it isn't fair to Haruka, who can't just sleep endlessly like Rin could   ―   Haruka who has to watch more tears in Makoto's family, Haruka who has to perform his duties as a priest still even though he's still in mourning for his best friend.

But it's better to sleep   ―   at least he wouldn't be another one Haruka needs to keep an eye on when he's asleep.

He wakes up to the scent of vodka and a complete offering of    _shinsen_  ―more seasoned fish, which means Haruka has come. Alliums are still blooming, purple bulbs towering around the cherry blossom tree, nearly reaching Rin's shoulders, and for a second he pauses, trying to decipher how long he's fallen asleep.

It takes everything in him to rouse himself and floats down the tree, more for Haruka's tensed shoulders and tight expression than the complete offering that makes his stomach rumbles. He ignores the offerings, focuses instead on the paper lantern in Haruka's hand. Oh, he thinks. Alliums must have bloomed late this year.

There's a calligraphy set next to the offerings. Haruka folds his legs and sits properly before them, fingers steady as he grips the calligraphy brush, back straight as he writes down the kanji for Makoto's family name onto the paper lantern. Rin settles next to him, shoulders still hunched, one hand reaching for the vodka, movement jerky as he opens the bottle and downs three gulps of the liquor.

It burns. Rin grimaces, welcomes the pain in his throat that numbs the constant ache in his chest. Haruka gives him a side-glance, the slight frown on his face clearly indicating his disapproval over Rin's careless drinking, but Rin just thrusts the bottle back to Haruka, who obliges and trades them with the calligraphy brush and the paper lantern.

"I can't believe it's obon already," Rin grouches, but his tone is too heavy. Haruka doesn't say anything, staring thoughtfully at the bottle of vodka instead. Rin grips the brush hard, knuckles whiting, hands shaking, and when he writes the two characters of Makoto's name, his handwriting comes out too blocky―uneven strokes, reflecting anger and sorrow and simply exhaustion.

He thinks of Makoto's hand on his when he taught him to write, so many lifetimes ago. He thinks of all the times he didn't get to say goodbye, thinks of the time he could only watch the procession from the top of the cypress tree.    _At least I could send you off properly now_  , he thinks without humo u r, and finishes the last character.

Haruka is burying his face into one hand when Rin turns to him. "Haru?"

"Burns," Haruka croaks, then coughs violently. Rin pats him on the back, listens as Haruka's coughs gradually morph into silent sobs, shoulders shuddering, chest heaving. The back of Rin's eyes burn hotter than his throat as he takes the bottle and downs another three gulps, letting the pain bloom into fresh tears in his eyes.

"Weakling," he tells Haruka, who elbows him half-heartedly, and Rin roughly messes up his hair before drawing him into a tight one-armed hug.

**――-o0o――-**

Rin puts three bulbs of  a lliums into the paper lantern. They wait for the sun to blink out behind the horizon, finishing the bottle of vodka as they wait for the first stars to pepper the summer night sky, before setting off to the river. It's crowded with people, almost all of them holding onto one or two paper lanterns of their own, the riverbank alight with the dim fire of the lantern, tiny dots of light like a dusting of backscatters in a photograph as they are put in the water, the currents taking them away along with the light that they provided.

They put Makoto's lantern onto the water together, watches it join the stream of orbs. Rin thinks of the bulbs of alliums he put in―a symbol of his loss and pain, but also an unwritten letter for Makoto, wherever he is right now:     _we're okay. Haru and I, that is―_ _I still have him for a while, at least. Don't worry about us, Makoto_  .

"I hope he doesn't take too long this time," Rin groans, and if his voice is still scratchy, the words successfully brings a tiny smile on Haruka's face.

"Don't get discouraged," Haruka murmurs, and Rin lets himself smile wider, because the bulbs of Alliums would tell Makoto that, too: a heart that would never get discouraged, still waiting for him, for the next time he is reborn.

He relaxes and leans against Haruka's side. "Make sure you wake me up when the cherry blossoms bloom."

Haruka sighs in mock-exasperation. "You ask so much, Rin."

**――-o0o――-**

He isn't sure how long time has passed, when this happens―he's sure he's slept through several springs and more winters than what he's counted, but one night he wakes up to the sound of the temple bell echoing all throughout the forest.

He wonders if Haruka's passed away while he's asleep. Haruka had been old, the last time he visited Rin for a drink, and Rin had thought Haruka was saying his goodbyes then. He isn't sure why he wakes up, now, but he's wide awake and thinks, might as well see what's happening in the temple.

It's nearly midnight, judging from the way the bell keeps resounding―Rin passes people counting each echo of the bell up to 108, and realizes that it's the Jyouya no Kane ritual. No wonder the temple is crowded, it's New Year's. Rin floats above people's heads, almost bored as he watches people line up before the altar, burns their    _omamori_  , and bathes in smoke.

Hatsumode. First visit of the year to the temple, with stalls of snacks lining the streets and hopeful faces wherever he turns around.

Rin closes his eyes, pushes away the sudden loneliness gripping his heart. This is nothing, he tells himself. He's waited for much longer. He could do much longer.

He toes down onto the ground right next to a kid praying before the altar, absently contemplating if he should prank everyone here and swat their tossed coins away before they could jump into the   _saisenbako_  . Makoto would give him slightly exasperated looks, if he's here, but his lips would be twitching up in amusement, so it should be alright.

Except Makoto isn't here, right now.

Rin huffs. Fuck it, it's hatsumode. He snatches another person's tossed coin, ignoring the confused look of the poor young man, and lobs it back to the    _saisenbako_  . Not his coin, but then again, what use do youkai have for them? What kind of gods require money to listen to their believers? Rin is a youkai anyway, they probably wouldn't bother.

"Yo," he begins, casually, doesn't even bother pulling the rope or clapping his hands. "I know Makoto is good-looking, thanks for making him so handsome, by the way. Be cool and don't keep him up there too long, I'm getting bored, here. You don't want me getting bor―"

The last syllable gets stuck in his throat, and Rin sucks a harsh breath, pausing, before closing his eyes. Oh, who is he kidding. Fucking gods probably have weird  sense of  humours―they probably enjoy seeing Rin and Makoto flounder for each other every single time, across decades and seasons, like a plaything. Maybe he should start pranking people again, just to spite the gods. Maybe if he does so, Makoto would be reborn faster, just to keep Rin from being bored.

"Bah!"

Rin yelps when a handful of his hair are yanked to the side―the grip strong enough to snap him back to reality. He hisses, and that earns him another happy gurgle, and Rin turns around in exasperation to the baby in the arms of the young woman now standing next to him, too busy praying before the altar to pay attention to what her baby is doing. Rin pries his hair off the death grip of the baby―a boy, probably slight l y past his ninth month of life, beaming up at him like Rin is the best toy he's ever seen.

Rin clucks at the baby. "Kid, you shouldn't mess with otherworldly beings, you―"

His words are cut short as the baby opens his eyes wide, curious green eyes almost glowing under the bright lights of the temple lanterns. They blink at Rin, slightly droopy, and then grins up at him again as tiny hands reaches up, trying to pat Rin's cheeks. "Bah!"

Rin wants to laugh, but something in his chest melts into unbearable warmth―and fuck, he might just cry.

"Fine," he tells the beaming infant. "I'll be waiting for a few more years. Find me when you're no longer too tiny to kiss, Makoto." He catches one tiny fist, sending the baby into a giggle fit, and noses against the wrist. "Don't forget the    _kuroki_  ."

He reaches out to flick Makoto's nose softly, playfully, and Makoto regards him with a pleased "Yaaa!" before scrunching up his face. Rin smiles, unbidden, and lets a grin stretches his cheeks.

"Welcome to the world, kid."

The young woman turns away to leave, and Rin watches them go with a light heart. A few more years, he could do that. He'd visit Makoto's house later, shower his room with cherry blossoms and nemophila again, perhaps, or anemones. Maybe they could find Haruka together this time, when Makoto's older. Maybe Rin would get a chance to peck him and share their memories before Haruka could chide him for being a creep over toddlers.

It doesn't matter.

Makoto is here now.

"I owe you one, Amaterasu-sama," he grins up to the sky.

**――-o0o――-**

Between not seeing Makoto for another five or so years and subjecting his hair to a treatment of baby drool, Rin considers which option is the lesser evil.

"Makoto, no." He says for the eighteenth time today, pulling a lock of wet hair from Makoto's mouth.

Sleeping his days away sounds really,    _really_   enticing right now.

Makoto's arm flops on his cheek, patting him thrice there with a stream of nonsense babble falling out of his mouth, tugging and snuggling in the red expanse of Rin's hair. He grins up almost mischievously at Rin when Rin tries to untangle tiny fingers off his hair, leaving  Rin feeling like an exasperated, but loving mother. He guesses it's pretty cute. Kind of. When Makoto's blinking drowsily at him and not trying to eat his hair.

Maybe he shouldn't have lay down by Makoto's side.

Makoto lets out a gurgle and a small yawn, before proceeding to flop on his side, snoring lightly with Rin's hair as a pillow.

His little mouth is parted slightly.

_Fuck._

His hair is going to smell like baby drool when morning comes.

**――-o0o――-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your hanakotoba lesson for this chapter:  
> Allium: Deep sadness, A heart never discouraged.  
> Nemophila: Prosperity  
> Anemone: Expectation


	6. Taisho

Rin snaps the suspenders over Makoto's chest.

"Ow," Makoto whimpers.

Ignoring the pitiful pout, Rin has his hand curled under his chin as he floats around Makoto once, twice, thrice.

A critical once over, and he notes the umber coloured vest, along with matching dress pants. He reaches out, pats the material around his shoulders and oh―   _oh―_   that's really warm. He wonders if it's made out of wool.

"Rin?"

His gaze moves from Makoto's shoulder, to the  smooth  cordovan tie,  knotted in a thick, wide, simple triangle that snugly rests against the white fabric of his dress  shirt , neatly covering Makoto's long neck, exposing only  the lines of his neck that stretches to his jaw from under a crisp collar.  It gives Makoto an aura of confidence, somehow―of capability and strength.

He locks eyes with Makoto, and he feels heat from his face suddenly. It's not because of the heat, he can't blame the red on cheeks on the weather when it's fucking autumn. Heart beating fast, mouth hanging open at the sight of Makoto looking unbelievably dapper, his mind decides at that moment, the best possible course of action

"Rin? What's wrong?"

Bursting into little pieces of flustered embarrassment as he demateriliases. 

**――-o0o――-**

"The baby who drooled all over my hair grew up to be so good-looking," Rin teases. "Who knew ."

Makoto flushes. "Hush, Rin." He tugs on his gakuran uniform, before snatching his bag off his bed. "I'm going to be late."

Rin stares at the way black fabric hugs Makoto's body, formal in a way he hasn't ever seen before, with a standing collar buttoning down from top-to-bottom. The straight legs of the pants accentuates the lines of Makoto's hips and tall legs nicely, and when Makoto raises one hand to get a book from the upper shelf, Rin catches a peek of dark brown-coloured belt circling his hips. An appreciative smile tugs on his lips. "Hey, I'm not complaining."

Makoto gives him a sullen look, reaching for his loafer. "If you didn't look so edible, I wouldn't have been late."

Rin thinks Makoto is the one who looks more edible, right now. Nonetheless, he stretches along the bed, lets the blanket covering him shift dangerously low over his bare stomach. "Oh, so that's how it goes now? Blaming me for your weakness, Tachibana?"

"Incorrigible," Makoto tells him with only a faint shade of red on his cheeks, lips twitching up, before bending down to give Rin a brief kiss.

**――-o0o――-**

"But have you considered apricot curry?"

"Backseat driver."

"No, not for your restaurant, dumbass. For me!"

"I'm not cooking for you." Haruka scrunches his nose in contempt. "You only want apricots because it's the offering Makoto gave you when he first saw you."

"They taste good, okay, back off." Haruka does, in fact, back off to the kitchen.

"Hopeless romantic," he says from behind the counter. Drumming his fingers on the wooden surface, Rin could almost see the mischievous little gears in Haruka's head turn. "Maybe I should try persimmons, though."

"Fuck." He should've expected that. "Did Makoto tell you?"

Haru slides a plate of curried persimmon and pumpkin soup in front of him. "You can't feed this to the raccoons, Rin," he tells Rin, face straight, but Rin could see his lips twitch a little, his shoulders shaking and that might as well be a fucking cackle from Haru. An evil one at that. The bastard.

**――-o0o――-**

"You look interested in them last time, so I brought over something that might fit you?" Makoto is back to wearing a traditional hakama today, much to Rin's disappointment

"It wasn't the clothes I was interested in," Rin mutters, looking off to the side.

"Haru said something with cooler undertones would bring out your hair," Makoto holds up a gray suit, the slightest hint of royal blue textured the weave in the of the fabric.  There are more fabrics on the temple's tatami floor, spread out in matching swatches.  "I think this should be around your size."

"Hmm." Rin gives the garment a once over before staring blankly at Makoto.   _Yes, and?_  

"Well, what are you waiting for? Change into them!"

The clothes heap over Rin's shoulders and head, having thrown at him by Makoto. He directs a half-hearted glare at him, doesn't miss Makoto's shaking shoulders before he pulls all the fabrics down onto one heap in his own arms. "I hope you're not thinking of doing anything weird with this."

Makoto looks at him innocently. "What kind of weird things?"

Rin averts his eyes. Makoto raises his eyebrows. "Rin, lewd."

"I didn't say anything!"

Makoto's laughter hangs in the unmoving air as Rin disappears behind the door to the adjacent room in the temple with a huff.

**――-o0o――-**

"Whoa," Makoto says in awe, eyes wide and cheeks colouring. "Haru was right when  he said  you'd look good in a waistcoat."

Rin flushes under Makoto's approving gaze, not used to the way fabric hugs tight around his figure. Neat, pressed lines replacing his usual loose, fluttery kimono. It feels weird, not having fabric hanging around his sleeves.

"Turn around for me?"

"Lewd, Makoto."  He leers despite the heat spreading to the tips of his ears.

"No! I mean― I just want to see how it looks like from the back, is all."

Laughing,  Rin  obliges,  turning around,  even as he feels warm all over―his face is probably completely red, now, perhaps even his neck, because it feels too warm there, too. He resists the urge to duck his head, or to glare at Makoto, because this is supposed to be good fun, and well, he's not going to lie―the way Makoto's eyes critically rake over his body feels good.

"Something isn't quite right, though..." He hears Makoto's footsteps come up behind him, and he feels fingers touching at his nape. "I wonder if a low ponytail will look better."

"Better than I do usually?" Rin snorts. "That'd be a feat."

"Shhh, let me just―"

The piece of silk that holds up his hair comes undone, and his hair fans out over his back, streams of crimson against ashen gray. Makoto leaves stray locks of hair over the sides of his fac e, framing the lines of his face . Soft silk rests on his nape as Makoto secures the knot around the hair tie.

"There we go," Makoto says, turning Rin by the shoulders. "So handsome."

"I'm always handsome." Rin snorts.

"But you look like a Prince, like this." Makoto's arms trap his hips, chin resting on his shoulder. "A British Prince! Or well, at least like a noble. A duke, or something."

Rin fights the heat that burns his face. "Shut up, do you even know what those mean."

"Not really." Makoto smiles, the childishness left in him shines through. "But I'll learn. We'll learn. More importantly, you look really good."

Rin raises a hand and covers the lower half in his mouth, face burning.. "Stop it, Tachibana, I swear to god."

Makoto laughs, steals a peck on the line of Rin's jaw. "You don't even believe in one."

**――-o0o――-**

"Did you know that souls age?" Rin begins conversationally, legs dangling from the windowsill of Makoto's room that he's perching on, inches away from the side of Makoto's head.

The boy, eyes glued to the newspaper he's reading, absently raises a hand to pat Rin's calf. "You don't look old to me, if that's what you're worried about."

"Excuse you, I'm extremely young for a youkai still." Rin kicks away the hand on his calf playfully, but Makoto doesn't bug, fingers latching around Rin's calf and stroking softly in a way that makes Rin shiver a little. "Anyway," he continues, tries not to lose his breath. "Soul-wise, you're probably older than me. I can't remember a time when you're not there, even before I got sealed."

Makoto pauses, puts down the newspaper gently on  the floor before turning sideways and presses his lips to Rin's heel. Rin wriggles his toes just to mess with Makoto's bangs, and when Makoto looks up, it's with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Share with me?"

"What?"

"The first time you saw me." Makoto tugs on his foot, a soft smile against Rin's skin. "You never thought of that, when we kiss."

"You have so much I could see, why would I think of anything else?"

"But I want to know," Makoto's voice takes on a slightly whining note. "Please, Rin?" A hint of tongue flicks out, trailing wet across Rin's heel, down to his toes, tracing the lines of his foot. Rin tries to suppress a shiver―it feels intimate, somehow, that Makoto disregards everything just to pay attention to his foot, like   _fuck_  , Rin doesn't even know Makoto has a foot fetish.

He leans down anyway, flicking Makoto's forehead lightly. " I nsatiable bastard."

Makoto grins, arms opening as Rin floats down, pulling him onto the floor, messing the still opened newspapers with a headline of two foreigners injured after an attack by locals.

Outside, the sounds of children chanting about unwelcomed golden-haired people cease into a background noise.

**――-o0o――-**

On the peak of August where the sun burns the brightest, a neighbo u r of Makoto's dies with a bullet wound through his chest on the riverbank. He has hair the colour of of early morning sun and the skin paler than the moon, with clear blue eyes that matches a spring sky, brighter than Haruka's eyes. Rin stares at the body in what's almost like fascination, even as dread slowly curls in his stomach.

Next to him, Makoto shifts uncomfortably. "It's horrible," he murmurs, stress and fear and uncertainty apparent in his young face, and Rin is hit with the oddest urge to cover Makoto's eyes. He's only eighteen, Rin thinks, even if his heart is perhaps older than Rin's own.

"Foreigner," a man who stands just off to his side scoffs. "They get what they deserve."

Do they, Rin wonders. He wonders if this man whose hair the colour of early morning sun had only wanted to see this land Rin's known his whole life   ―   to see its flowers bloom and its people bustle about, to learn and make a difference, somehow. He wonders if this man wasn't similar to him   ―   unable to stay still, made of the powerful urge to constantly move and see something new. He wonders if this man, too, had dreams like Rin does, wonders if said dreams had brought him to a cruel death as he stared up the sky.

Makoto's face twists uncertainly, fingers curling in Rin's hold. "Let's go, Rin."

They leave the crowds, silently returning to their path towards Haruka's restaurant. Makoto's shoulders are hunched, eyes troubled, and Rin tears his own gaze off Makoto's figure to throw one last look at where the foreigner's body lies.

"I hope his dream came true," he breathes almost inaudibly.

Makoto's hand in his squeezes harder.

**――-o0o――-**

There are people whose hair colours are brighter than the early morning sun who come to eat at Haruka's family restaurant sometimes. Haruka never bats an eyelash at the sight of them, serves them all the same, but Makoto sometimes sits down next to one of them and listens to whatever story they have to tell. They usually leave the restaurant with a direct praise to the chef and a grateful smile to Makoto, which mostly makes them in Rin's okay book, so he never says anything about them.

Foreigners are kind of weird because they're different, but that's about it. They bring a lot of interesting things   ―   Rin likes their clothes, likes the difference in food and the way their tongues seem to move lighter when they spe a k, curling in the most fascinating sounds. He likes that they bring new things into the secluded world Rin knows   ―   things that he might not be able to see because they're supposedly another continent away.

They also bring tension among people who hate changes, but that shouldn't be Rin's problem, right?

"They say," Makoto murmurs against Rin's collarbone, fingers lightly tracing Rin's hipbone in a teasing touch, and Rin arches his hips slightly when Makoto's hand dips a little lower. The bed creaks as they move, the only other sound in the room except for their breaths and muffled pleasure. "That when people die they don't really die as long as you keep them alive in your heart."

It takes Rin a full three seconds to register Makoto's words. By that time, Makoto is trailing soft kisses down to the cent re  of Rin's chest, lips curving up almost wickedly as he continues lower and lower, and Rin has to remind himself to breathe against the mounting anticipation when Makoto reaches his bellybutton. He forces himself to reply, almost half-absently, "Sounds ridiculous"

"Western literature." Makoto's teeth sink gently into the dip of Rin's hipbone, and Rin sucks a sharp breath, hips jerking up involuntarily. He's fully hard in Makoto's hand, which is ridiculous because Makoto still has his pants on, what the fuck.

"Well," he answers, tries to gather his thoughts together enough to respond to Makoto's absurd conversation. It unsettles him somewhat, that Makoto brings this up in the middle of sex. "People die when they die. Sometimes with luck, they'd be reborn in less than ten years." His fingers move to thread in Makoto's hair, just as Makoto dips his head to take Rin into his mouth, and Rin lets out a long groan. "Sometimes―aaahh, Makoto,   _fuck_  ―"

Makoto actually has the nerve to stop, looks up at Rin, eyes dancing. "Sometimes?" he prompts, muffled with his mouth full. Rin smacks the back of his head lightly, a silent don't-talk-with-your-mouth-full, before letting himself falls back into the pillows.

"Sometimes," Rin swallows, feels Makoto taking him in deeper, and nearly chokes on the next word. "They don't get to be reborn, until.. ahh, a-another hundred of years―" he breaks off with a low growl, fingers tightening in Makoto's hair as Makoto swallows him whole, throat tight around Rin. Rin's hips jerk forward―once, twice―and the familiar heat is curling in his stomach, sending pinpricks of pleasure to the tips of his nerves. He loses the train of words forming in his mind, brain blanking out except for the syllables of Makoto's name, which escape his mouth with every breath.

"Mako―   Makoto―"

Makoto hums, hooded green eyes peering up almost innocently, and Rin loses it completely. He spills down Makoto's throat, arching up as Makoto swallows, skilful tongue swirling when he pulls off, smiling up at Rin almost roguely .

Rin yanks him up and forward, stealing a deep, thorough kiss and forces a gut-wrenched sound out of Makoto's throat. His body is thrumming, both with excitement and tension, and Rin closes his eyes, drowns himself in the scent of Makoto.

"You were saying?" Makoto murmurs against his lips.

Rin opens his eyes, meets Makoto's serious gaze―so close, so honest. He takes another deep breath, and finishes finally: "It doesn't matter as long as your soul isn't old enough to ascend."

"Ascend where?" Makoto blinks.

"I don't know. Heaven? Ask Haru, he probably knows more." Rin buries his fingers into Makoto's hair, threading through the brown strands before pulling them back so he could settle his hands on Makoto's jaws. He presses his forehead against Makoto's and lets out a contented sigh.

Makoto, though, is apparently not yet satisfied. "I wonder if we'd go to the same place, if we both died."

Rin could feel a frown forming on his face. He doesn't like it, when Makoto talks about death, but he also knows better than to run away again. "Why are you talking about morbid things today?"

The small smile tugging the corners of Makoto's mouth upwards is enough to dissolve Rin's frown. "I just thought that I'd like to find you again even after we died." Makoto says, pulling back to press his lips to the tip of Rin's nose. "Or wait for you to find me, if it's the case."

Rin makes a face. "Don't talk about that yet. That's still a long time coming―we still have to go to see the ocean you saw together."

Makoto's hands reach up, settling on Rin's own, fingers lacing. "Will you find me too, Rin?"

"Don't be stupid," Rin says, and answers him with a fierce kiss.

**――-o0o――-**

"You're late." Rin accuses with a smile, one summer morning.

Makoto answers with a smile and a bottle of   _kuroki_  in hand. There's something in the set of his shoulders that's not quite right, but Rin isn't sure if he should mention it, so he doesn't say anything. Instead he swings down to the lower branch, lets gravity pulls him towards Makoto as his arms reach out, hands cupping Makoto's face, pulling him up and closer for a kiss.

Except Makoto's hands come to rest on his shoulders, holding him off.

His world comes to a standstill. Rin blinks down, half-suspended from the branch, staring into Makoto's green eyes like it holds the most-guarded mystery of the world.

"What...?" Rin breathes out weakly, mind whirling a mile a minute. "...Makoto...?"

Makoto shakes his head softly, and rejection crashes through Rin's very being, tearing a clean cut somewhere in his chest. The sting is enough to make him jerk away from Makoto's hands, from Makoto's touch―and in his attempt to find air, to breathe through the pain, Rin barely registers Makoto's fingers tightening on his shoulders.

"Rin," his voice is pleading. "Please."

 _Listen to me_  , Rin hears.

The tips of his fingers are shaking.

**――-o0o――-**

"I got a letter this morning," Makoto fidgets with a tiny branch of yew, needle-like leaves twisting helplessly between his fingers. Rin finds himself unable to tear his eyes off the tiny red flower dotting the branch, dreading to look up and meet Makoto's eyes. "Haru got one, too. He'll probably come over later."

"Yeah?" He swallows, something curling in his stomach as his eyes follow the twirl of the flower in Makoto's hand. It's unpleasant, coupled with the last of the ache still sinking its claws in his chest when Makoto turns away from his kiss. He's been weird lately, Rin thinks, and perhaps something's happened, somewhere Rin couldn't reach. Maybe Makoto's fallen for someone else, someone mortal and less irritating than Rin is, and maybe he's trying to let Rin down gently. 

The thought hurts, and Rin visibly curls into himself, arms crossing his chest and shoulders hunching―almost defensive. There's the beginning of red hot anger brewing in him   ―   it's always easier to resort to anger when he's hurt   ―   at Makoto's rejection, at all the time he spent waiting, at every halting word Makoto tries to tell him. He doesn't want to hear this, Rin thinks, half-angry and terribly unsettled, but he forces himself to stay still and keeps his voice even. "What about the letter?"

Makoto pauses, breath catching, and Rin wonders if this is the end.

"I got drafted for the war."

Something in Rin crashes, and he fades out before he even realized it.

**――-o0o――-**

He doesn't re-materialise. Makoto's face turns pale, panicking the second Rin's figure blurs into a flurry of cherry blossom petals riding the wind. Rin doesn't answer the first call, nor the second or the third, mind whirring too fast as he tries to process the last words.

Drafted for the war.

"Rin―"

Makoto is being drafted to be sent to the war front.

"Rin? Where are you?"

The realisation crashes down as a dead-weight on his shoulders, trapping him under until he can't breathe:   _so this is how I'll lose him this time_  .

"Rin,   _please_  ―"

He flinches back as Makoto's hand reaches out to his general direction―he knows Makoto could feel where he is, knows Makoto could feel that he's still here―he needs to run, needs to get away, needs to―

 _This is how I'll lose him this time_  .

The next time he blinks, he re - materiali s es over a bed of gentianas, the scent almost tangible in his nose, and Rin lets himself fall, lets himself curl into himself, bunching petals into his fists, breathing grass and flowers and tears, sobs wrenched out of his throat in broken gasps.

Silence.

Blessed silence.

And this is how he loses Makoto this time.

**――-o0o――-**

The fault lies in the way they both grieve before Makoto even goes away.

"He doesn't want to go," Haruka says, an arm reach away from where Rin stays curled up among flowers. Rin's faded out again, hating the possibility of Haruka seeing all his anger and pain over things none of them have control over. It's fate, after all, just like what ties both him and Makoto. He knows better than to intervene with fate, knows that it's better to let fate runs its course, but he's losing Makoto so soon and   _it's not fair_  .

"Rin," Haruka starts, and Rin has had enough because   _Haruka is being drafted too_  .

"You're going away, too," he snarls, bitterness and anger a venom in his voice. Haruka flinches back, but his shoulders remain straight, face remains determined.

"Talk," is all Haruka tells him before he rises to his feet and leaves.

**――-o0o――-**

Makoto waits for him under a rain of autumn foliage―red and brown and yellow, like he belongs to earth itself..

 _Don't go_ , Rin wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead he floats over to sit on a branch above Makoto, half-bending down until his hair cascades  down, tips touching Makoto's cheeks―crimson strands joining the rain of reds and  yellows and browns around them. Makoto tilts his head ever so slightly, one hand going up to thread fingers into Rin's hair, pressing a kiss against the strands.

"Rin―" his voice breaks.

Rin doesn't have the courage to hear the rest.

"Nothing we could do anyway," he mutters; the words too bitter in his own ears. Something lumps in his throat―he hates doing this, hates putting up a front like this is just Makoto leaving for the next town, hates making light of the whole situation. "Nothing's going to change if you don't go."

Makoto's shoulders tense.

He stays silent and unmoving, and Rin counts three-four-five heartbeats before Makoto's head finally tilts back, almost too slowly, and there's a smile―too bright, too normal―curving on his lips for Rin.

Makoto says, "I can't not go."

Rin hears,  _please tell me not to go_ . He wills Makoto to say it―  _say it and maybe I could tell you don't go, don't go, please, say it, say it―_  

Makoto doesn't.

Rin closes his eyes, swallows the sudden anger that spikes in his chest, and bites out, "It's not like you can't find me again in your next lifetime."

"Rin," Makoto says, sounding hurt, the beginning of a frown marring his face. "I'll try my best to survive, so don't―"

"Sure," Rin says, curtly and dismissively, and lets himself fade out again.

Makoto stands there, looking up with a thin line of his lips and hands in fists, white-knuckled, brows visibly furrowing―he's fighting the anger, Rin knows, tracing the tensed lines of Makoto's figure with his eyes―and then he turns around and leaves in a brisk, angry pace.

Rin watches his back as their distance grows, until Makoto's figure completely disappears down the forest path.

**――-o0o――**

On the day young men of the town are sent out, Rin perches on the lamppost in the station, staring down at a group of boys in black gakuran and hats, their appearances sharp and ready as their family hover nearby with a steady stream of prayers falling out of their lips, wishing their boys to come home safely.

Below, standing five steps away from the post Rin is perching on, Makoto tells Haruka, voice tight and almost angry:"He didn't even tell me not to go."

Rin scoffs, irritated enough to want to throw something at Makoto, except Haruka voices what he thinks: "Even if he told you that, it won't make any difference."

"I know," Makoto says, sadness now lacing the anger in his voice. "Still, I wish he'd told me not to go."

 _What fucking good would it do_  , Rin thinks, furious at everything and nothing at the same time. What fucking good would it do, when Makoto wouldn't even ask him to say what Rin isn't supposed to say. Fate has its own course, and sometimes it gets cruel at those who stand in its way.

He wishes Makoto had said   _Rin, please tell me not to go_  .

But Makoto didn't.

The train comes, and the young men step aboard with uncertain faces.   Rin watches Makoto's back as it disappears among other uniformed boys into the train car. Haruka is close behind, except he pauses before he steps into the train and looks up to meet Rin's gaze.

Their eyes lock, and Rin mouths at him:   _take care of each other._  

Haruka stares at him for a long time, before closing his eyes and shakes his head in exasperation. Rin manages to hear the last word Haruka says, somehow, even with the clamouring of the train and the people, spoken wistfully, almost sadly.

"Idiots."

Rin doesn't watch him disappear in the uniformed crowds. He turns away, furious and  _grieving_  , and leaps off before the train's whistle is sounded.

**――-o0o――-**

He goes to sleep and doesn't count the time.

His anger vanishes completely somehow, and Rin wakes up in regretful tears.

Under the tree, Haruka stands, older by mere two years now, back and shoulders rigid as he grips the bottle of vodka and a formal-looking letter, unable to look up at Rin when Rin floats down before him.

"Sorry," Haruka chokes out, voice strangled, knuckles white as he offers Rin the letter. He doesn't cry, he just simply looks more exhausted than Rin's ever seen him all these lifetimes, and for some reason, it's Haruka's expression that drives the fact home: _He's gone._

For once, Rin closes his eyes and lets himself cry in front of Haruka.

**――-o0o――-**

Haruka puts him to sleep. Promises to wake him up whenever he visits.

Rin sleeps under the summer breeze, watches Haruka's back with sleepy eyes until the image gets hazy, the bright blue of the sky and the cool green of the forest bleeding into his vision, Haruka's black gakuran stark in the midst of it. The back of his mind shuts down slowly―it's time to wait again, now.

There are asters wilting in the flower fields the next time he wakes up, with Haruka, much older than the last time he saw him, handing him an invitation to his wedding, looking almost shy about it. The city is alive with change―constructions everywhere, the very first sign of tall buildings dotting some parts of the city. The end of an era, he hears someone says.

He wishes Makoto is still around to witness this.

**――-o0o――-**

  _I want to see you,_  Rin crouches down, his geta soaked in a puddle.

  _I want to see you,_  the surrounding bushes painted in blue and violet, the cluster of flowers seem to glow slightly under the pouring rain.

  _I can't see you, I want to see you,_  he thinks of muted greens, colours in discord against the orange umbrella over his head, the hydrangeas by his feet.

 _I can't see you, I can't see you,_  he thinks of how the umbrella shifts, and a smile peeks from under the canopy.

  _I want to see you,_  he looks up towards the tree, pass the leaves and branches, at Rin.

 Rin opens the umbrella over his head, and reached out. He feels petal soft, a drop of water under the pad of his finger.

  _I can't see you._

  **――-o0o――-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your hanakotoba lesson for this chapter:  
> Yew: Death.  
> Gentiana: I love you who put me in sadness.  
> Aster: Reminiscence.  
> Hydrangea: Pride, patient love.


	7. Showa

Rin wakes up to the cherry blossom blooming beautifully in a canopy above his head, and the warmth of a body next to him, leaning back against the tree bark. 

His breath catches.

"I'm sorry," he hears. Rin swallows, wonders how old Makoto is this time, wonders if he could look Makoto in the eyes after all that anger, burning for years and clogging his throat bitterly, the resentment too mixed up with longing and love and god, he misses Makoto    _so much._

"Shut up," he says instead, and closes his eyes again because they burn. He sucks in a sharp breath, and presses himself closer against Makoto's side. "Shut up."

"I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you."

"I said," Rin growls, snaps his eyes open, and his sight is a blur of pink-white-brown-green, eyes prickling with heat and overflowing with tears before he even knows it. He looks up, finds those familiar brown eyes looking back sadly, and they blur, too, into indistinct shapes that wrenches wrecked sobs out of him. "Shut―up―"

He leans up, blindly reaches out, and Makoto pulls him into a kiss.

His world explodes in memories of a war long finished, of blood and pain and soul-consuming fear, of a ship out in the sea hit by a torpedo, of the desperation and helplessness, the knowledge and regret of death is coming    _too close-too fast-too soon_ , of heat and water flooding, swallowing everything, freezing and scorching at the same time, the ocean raging with explosions, darkness and    _can't breathe can'tbreathecan'tbreathe_ ―

Rin scrabbles at Makoto's shirt almost desperately, pulling him closer, lets himself see Makoto's memories―inhales the smoke and fire, tastes the blood and salt water at the back of his throat, feels the burning fire on his skin―lets himself be enveloped with everything Makoto couldn't tell him, with every regret that stayed with Makoto through that lifetime, with    _sorry-sorry-sorry_   and―

"I love you," Makoto whispers. He's crying, sobbing really hard that Rin's afraid he can't breathe, shaking with the force of the memories, and Rin pulls him closer, clutches at Makoto and holds on him at the same time, tasting fear and bitter resentment on the tip of his tongue and sweet relief in the corners of his lips.

"I love you," Makoto repeats. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Rin murmurs, grips Makoto's arms tight, and vows    _I won't let us do this again. Never_  . "I love you, too."

He pretends that they're still in the same lifetime as when Makoto got drafted. He pretends that this is Makoto coming back, pretends that Makoto didn't leave, pretends that he didn't spend years waiting, always waiting, for Makoto to find him again, even with such red-hot anger curling in his stomach. Even with the guilt and regret now tinting their kisses, planting seeds of hesitance and insecurity whether their touch are welcomed.

Eventually Makoto falls asleep―the memory sharing refreshens the pain of war and death, proven to be exhausting enough for a twenty-year-old to bear. Rin curls around him, molds the lines of his body against Makoto's own, traces unfamiliar angles and edges that he's still unfamiliar with. 

Then he pauses, and remembers Haruka.

**――-o0o――-**

Haruka survived the war. That's the thing.

Rin doesn't know how to tell Makoto.

"Want to see him?" Rin says, bending down to pick a bunch of yarrow flowers and twirls one of the tiny stems in his hand. "I've been asleep most of the time, lately, so I haven't been visiting―"

Makoto turns to him curiously. "Doesn't Haru visit you here?"

Rin pauses. The white petals slip off his fingers, taken away by the wind, fluttering upwards before plummeting down to the ground when the wind breaks. "I," he says, hesitant. "It's just―he hasn't been strong enough to come over lately."

Makoto's brow furrows. "Strong enough?" He reaches out, fingers stretching to take a stray lock of red strands, but stops dead mere inches from it, twitching before his hand drops. "Sorry," he murmurs, hands clenching into fists before loosening, and then smiles at Rin. "There's a petal―on your hair."

"Oh―" Rin swallows his disappointment. His hand comes up to comb through his hair absent-mindedly, tries not to pretend it's Makoto's hand tucking his stray locks behind his ear. "Thanks, I guess."

Makoto chuckles. "So, we were talking―uh. Visiting Haru?"

Rin takes a breath, stares at Makoto for a long time. Then he remembers Haruka, who lives alone in his restaurant after his wife Chigusa passed away, who still makes amazing croquettes but is too old to climb the stone steps to the shrine. He remembers Haruka, and the look on his face when he told Rin about Makoto's death in the war, remembers Haruka and the formal death announcement for the Tachibana family. How many years ago was that, Rin wonders.

"Rin?"

Rin bends down and plucks another bunch of yarrow. "Pick up some flowers to bring for Haru. He'd like them."

Makoto makes a small bouquet of white and yellow yarrows from the flower field. Rin adds several pale purple ones for the center, fingers brushing Makoto's as they arrange it together, and tenses.

Makot's own fingers stutter, and Rin watches as they jerk in an aborted motion before Makoto draws his hand back. There's a smile on his lips that doesn't reach his eyes when Rin meets his gaze. "Sorry."

Rin doesn't understand this tension between them―the odd awkwardness that hangs above them ever since they disentangled themselves from their desperate embrace. He's forgiven, Rin tells himself. They have both forgiven, there shouldn't be this weird atmosphere between them, and Rin hates it, but he doesn't quite know how to break it, either.

So he says instead, "It's―fine."

He sounds like nothing is fine.

**――-o0o――-**

The wrinkles around Haruka's eyes have doubled in the time since Rin last saw him.

He's asleep, propped against fluffy pillows, as one of his granddaughter faithfully stays by his side to help with his every need. He's thinner than Rin remembers, but he ages well, evident from the laugh lines made of smiles back in his younger days, before and after the war. His dark hair has all turned white-and-gray, but they never lost their shine nor their softness, always well-kept, neat and clean. He looks tired, but not the bone-tiredness Rin sometimes associates with old people―Haruka's expression looks like back before the war, an exhaustion Rin associates with hard work and satisfaction, and it's nice, to see Haruka looks like that now.

It isn't enough to keep Makoto's hands from shaking, knuckles white around the bouquet of yarrows they had made. "Haru..."

Haruka's eyelids flutter, and Rin holds his breath when blue eyes finally open, clear and lucid as they ever are, gleaming under the dim light of the lantern. There's a soft sigh that follows, nearly inaudible, and Haruka's eyes focuses at Rin first.

"Hey, old man," Rin teases. Haruka huffs a soft laugh, apparently still strong enough to roll his eyes at Rin even if it's been years since they last saw each other. Rin grins at him, absently catching Haruka's granddaughter silently removes herself from the room―bless the attentive soul.

"You're awake," Haruka remarks, voice thin and thready but each syllable clear. "I thought it'd be a while before―"

He stops dead, gaze going straight past Rin and towards Makoto, eyes widening.

"Ma..koto...?"

Rin takes a step back, allows Makoto to step closer to Haruka's bed―shoulders trembling minutely, breath uneven, smile shaky. "Haru...?"

The hesitant note in his voice hurts to hear, even to Rin. Haruka though, is looking at Makoto with what is almost an awed gaze―like he can't quite believe that Makoto is there, standing next to his bed with a bouquet of hand-picked yarrows. Makoto shifts, like he's unsure of what kind of face he should be putting on, like he isn't sure what to do with his own body, and Rin reaches forward, brushes his fingers against Makoto's arm uncertainly before settling for a soft clap on his shoulder.

Haruka opens his mouth, looks like he can't decide what he's going to say, brows furrowing―perhaps counting the years, the gap that stretches between him and Makoto now, when there used to be none. Then his face smoothes, returning into his usual blank one, except there's softness in the line of his lips, and Haruka says, "You look exactly the same."

Makoto winces, and Rin holds his breath when he reaches out to place a hand on Haruka's arm.. "No, Haru―it's really m―"

"The same," Haruka repeats, cutting Makoto's words easily. "As the time when I got back to the base and you were called for the mission in the submarine, and we got separated."

Makoto's face crumples, and Rin remembers some of the memories Makoto shared with him―of watching Haruka among the soldiers who had just gotten back to the base, of relief that overwhelms for a moment before hearing    _Tachibana_  muttered by their commanding officer, of Haruka reading the mission objectives and briefing packet over Makoto's shoulder, of their last hug, brief but tight, before Makoto turns to go.

_"You have to come back. I don't want to have to tell Rin anything bad."_

_"You know I'll try my best to survive, Haru. You do the same, okay?"_

"I'm sorry that I didn't―" Makoto trails off, shaking harder as he attempts to blink back tears only to fail when Haruka's other hand finds his own, touching almost wonderingly. "I'm sorry you had to―Haru―"

"Don't be stupid, Makoto," Haruka swats at Makoto's hand, weak but steady, but his eyes are already wet. "Stop apologizing, or I'll tell Rin about that one time Yamazaki stumbled into you butt-naked in the barrack."

Makoto squeaks once. "Haru!"

"Was that you underestimating me?" Rin butts in, injecting as much incredulity as he could into his voice. "Did you just imply I didn't explore his whole memories when we shared―when I first kissed him today?"

"Rin!" Makoto protests, right on cue, face turning deep red as he scrubs his face, wiping away the last of his tears, and Haruka's eyes gleam like they're dancing.

"I see you've both made up then."

Rin opens his mouth to retort, but his throat has gone dry. Of course Haruka knows―he'd been the one who caught Rin seeing them off at the train station, had been the one to witness Rin's frustration and anger after the war when Makoto didn't come back, had been the one to see Makoto shipped off to his death. Somehow, it's only logical that Haruka would notice the odd awkwardness between him and Makoto―he's been with them for more years than they could count anyway, and Haruka remembers    _everything_  .

It's vexing, a little, like Haruka's beaten him somehow, and Rin wants to laugh at himself for being so petty about everything.

"Yeah," he says, steps forward next to Makoto, fingers running down Makoto's arm and slipping into Makoto's hand, lining their fingers together. Makoto tenses, but Rin pushes, takes Makoto's hand and squeezes gently;    _we're alright_  , he wants to say,    _we'll be alright, after this._

The tensed set of Makoto's shoulders abruptly relaxes, and Rin feels Makoto's fingers curl in his hand, squeezing back even if a bit tentative still. A grin blooms on Rin's face, and he lets his chin rests on Makoto's shoulder―and nothing is even more relieving than the way Makoto instinctively shifts closer to accommodate their position. They're tied, Rin realizes, and even if they fight through lifetimes, they would still gravitate towards each other.

Haruka makes a face at them, but the corner of his lips twitch. "Gross."

**――-o0o――-**

The bouquet of yarrows is transferred into a small glass vase that Haruka's granddaughter brings over a few minutes later. There's a pride Rin has never seen before shining in Haruka's face when she steps in with a polite smile and a peck on Haruka's cheek before disappearing out of the room again.

"The forest must look beautiful at this time of the year," Haruka says, and that's as close as he'd ever get to wistfully lamenting his lack of strength, unable now to conquer the hundreds steps to the temple, let alone into the forest. He's healthy for his age, considering―he still gets out to cook for the restaurant sometimes, or for evening walks with Rin and Makoto when it's not too cold or too hot outside.

They visit Haruka several times a week; sometimes Haruka cooks for them, sometimes they just sit and talk and joke around, but Makoto and Rin always bring flowers from the field. Lots of yarrows, carnations and sages―a silent hope for Haruka's health, that Haruka would still be with them for at least another decade, and maybe another, after. People would greet them in the street and praise Makoto for being a good grandson, and Rin would laugh so hard, because it's hilarious and because it always annoys Haruka―but mostly, he laughs to forget the reminder of Haruka's age.

They're young. They should be young, forever.

**――-o0o――**

"Is this how you feel, Rin, every time you watched me grew old?"

They're sitting on the edge of the pond, feet down in the water that nearly reaches their knees. Makoto's fingers are buried in his hair, fingers gently working out the knots and brushing them down. The forest hums softly around them, quiet as cattails along the shore of the pond sway almost teasingly. Rin catches himself following their motions with his eyes, much to his grimace, but if Makoto notices the way his head sometimes move in accordance to the swayings of the cattails, he doesn't say anything.

The question, though, jars the peace that settles over them. "You mean Haru?"

Makoto swallows. "It's hard," he says, voice too soft to be heard if it isn't for the quiet of the forest. "I tell myself not to think about it, but sometimes I just―look at him, at his wrinkles and grey hair, and it hits me every time:    _how much longer_ ?"

Rin lets the silence stretches for some time, prolonging the gentle pressure of Makoto's fingers against his scalp. "It is," he agrees at last, each syllable heavy in his tongue. "It never gets easier." He pauses, wriggling his toes to create ripples on the water surface, to add to the quiet harmony of the forest. "I don't―Haru doesn't usually let me watch, after you're gone. He lets me sleep through, wakes me up from time to time when he visits, but I don't―I rarely get to see him grow old and... leave."

"...why?"

"Because," Rin's breath catches at the mere memory. "It's hard enough. When it's you."

The fingers' movement lose their rhythm. "So every time you watch me... in each of those lifetimes where I grew old―this is how you feel?"

Rin closes his eyes. "Harder."

Makoto's fingers stop moving altogether. "Rin..."

"It's fine." Rin turns and finds Makoto's gaze, heavy with sorrow and apology. He grins, tries to make his next words light enough by shrugging. "I've been waiting for a long time, even before you could see me. Compared to that, this is nothing."

Something flashes across Makoto's face, too fast for Rin to catch. "Is this how you pictured your life? To wait for someone who might never come back for decades? Centuries? Only to wait for him to die again, over and over?" his voice wobbles, and then drops, tiny enough to be a whisper. "I can't promise you if I'd ever be back."

Rin stares at him, undeterred. "You always come back, though."

"What if I don't?" Makoto's voice breaks. "You wouldn't be waiting all the time if I wasn't here, Rin―you wouldn't be hurting!"

Of course, the idiot. Rin reaches out, palms smacking gently against Makoto's cheeks, resting there as Rin forces Makoto to look at him. "Don't be stupid," he grits out, because the last time they fought about this, Rin had bailed and now he knows better. "If it isn't for you, I would be wasting my life away tied to a tree with nowhere to go. No dreams of the ocean, no glimpses of the outside world that I couldn't see.    _You're_   the miracle, Makoto."

Makoto's eyes widen. "But―"

"It's harder, watching you grow old, not knowing how much longer we'd have. But you grew old. You lived long, and you were there, with me, and those lifetimes where you were old when you died? They're my favorites―because we get so much time together. It's hard, but it's worth it." Rin pulls Makoto forward, rests their foreheads together. "I got to be with you for a long time. All the wait, all the pain―it's worth it."

Makoto's eyes flutter close, his breath fanning Rin's lips, uneven and shaky. They stay like that, silent and unmoving until Makoto's breath evens out, until he opens his eyes back and stares at Rin, green eyes soft and wet, and filled with so much love it leaves Rin breathless. He leans forward, closes the gap between them and presses his lips against Makoto's, lets snapshots of memories rush through his whole being, and thinks,    _my miracle._

Yeah, yeah, he's a romantic sap, okay, sue him.

Then again, Rin thinks as he feels Makoto silently tangles their legs in the water, so is Makoto.

**――-o0o――-**

It happens when Haruka decides to take the train to visit one of his kids who is sick, and since it's his day off, Makoto wants to go with him. Rin follows them to the station just because he's annoyed he'd be left behind today, when it's not even nice out. It's been pouring endlessly since early morning: the skies bleak and the wind howling in the distance, and Rin hates the idea of going through his day alone with such a weather.

"We'll be back before evening," Makoto promises as their train comes. "I'll bring something home, okay Rin?"

Rin snorts half-heartedly. "If you're bringing me leftovers, you're not getting any tonight."

"Rin!" Makoto hisses, face turning aflame, but Haruka doesn't miss a beat.

"Makoto fusses more when he's in a bad mood, and he gets into a bad mood easily when you don't give him any," he points out. "Don't give me hardships, Rin."

"Haruuu!"

The train pulls to stop before them―people trailing their way off or into the train, hurried and quiet, like nobody wants to talk much under the mourning sky that blurs grey to every surface of the town. Makoto lets the tips of red strands he's been playing with slip off his fingers, smiles at Rin as he helps Haruka steps into the train, and just like that, Rin feels like he    _could_ .

So he reaches out to grab Makoto's arm and steps into the train just before the door slides behind him.

Makoto stiffens, eyes wide in pleasant surprise. "Rin!" he exclaims, belatedly remembers to lower his voice, and ducks to hide his grin as Rin starts to crow victoriously. "I'm―since when―how come?"

"I just thought I could." Rin throws him his widest, roguest grin, and earns an intense look from Makoto like he could kiss Rin senseless right here, right now. Haruka is looking at him, seemingly impressed. "I didn't know if I could, but the    _pull_  wasn't there, so I thought I could."

The intense look in Makoto's eyes changes into one of worry as fast as it came. "But the train―what if it brings you too far and you snap back―?"

Rin shrugs. "Risking that." He nods at Haruka confidently. "Besides, Haru will help me recover, right, Haru?"

"You are an idiot," Haruka informs him, but the words have no bite to it, so Rin settles the matter by draping himself over both Makoto and Haruka. Haruka lets him, so he counts that as a win.

Makoto knocks the sides of their heads together, eyes excited. "I'm glad you could come," he tells Rin, and proceeds to usher both of them to find seats.

**――-o0o――-**

The train is    _amazing_ .

It runs fast along the rice fields, outchasing the clouds that hang low and leaves the rain behind.Rin has his face glued to the window all the time, spending their short journey to the border of Tottori and Okayama trying to burn sceneries that blurs past as the train runs, matching each sight with the ones he'd seen in Makoto's memory. He can see the sea lining the horizon from afar, too, and Rin swallows the sudden longing to go to the ocean Makoto once showed him through a kiss.

He'd get stronger. The seal is getting weaker, and now he could even go on a train journey. Maybe they wouldn't have to wait for too long now, before they could both go―Rin laughs almost giddily at the thought, thrilled by the blossoming hope. He could, he could. Just thinking about it makes him excited.

He doesn't feel the    _pull_  until they reach the border of the prefecture―a whole prefecture! He could go so far, now, he could explore a whole prefecture!―and Makoto snags him into the toilet when they finally arrive at Haruka's son's house, trapping him between the wall and the bulk of Makoto's body before kissing him, deep and excited and giddy. Sight and sensations burst happily around Rin, tinted with pride and what feels almost like relief, and Rin laughs against Makoto's lips, brings him deeper and further into the memories that they share.

**――-o0o――-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your hanakotoba lesson for this chapter:  
> Yarrow: Health, Treatment.  
> Cattail: Peace.


	8. Heisei and Forth

“And so, for the First Annual Iwatobi Swim Club Super Summer Break Mountain Fun Biking Expedition, Haru-chan, please!” Nagisa's bounces and points to Haruka, who is holding up a piece of scrap paper. It's probably supposed to be a map of some kind, crudely drawn trees and all. 

“An old shrine deep in the mountains up west!”  he finishes, puffing his chest with pride, taking in the sparse clapping from Rei and Makoto.

“Shut up, Swim Club! Trying to eat lunch in peace here!” someone shouts from the other side of the rooftop.

"You're just jealous you're not going to a haunted shrine for the summer!' Nagisa cheekily shouts back. 

Rei stops clapping and squeaks. “ _H-haunted?!_ ”

“Don't worry, Rei-chan, I'll protect you!” 

Haruka watches from the corner of his eyes,  as  Makoto's gaze occasionally flit towards the map, lingering on the red x atop a doodle of a   _torii._  

**―― o0o―- ―**

“Say, Haru,” Makoto says. 

“Hmm?” Haruka lightly bumps the back of his head to Makoto's, letting him know that he's listening.

“Doesn't this place seem familiar to you?”

He watches the ground, the flickering shadows of the bicycle wheel under his feet as it turns and turns. 

“I wonder.”

**―― o0o―- ―**

_Rin?_

They park at the bottom of the stone steps. Nagisa jumps off the back of Rei's bicycle and runs up ahead of them.

“Come on, guys!” He's practically vibrating.

Rei takes a sharp intake of breath and coughs.

“Weak, Rei-chan.”

“Now, now.” Makoto pats Rei on the back. “He worked hard pedalling uphill. Why don't we all take a breather first? I'm kind of tired myself.”

_“Boo.”_

He looks down and notices dayflowers blooming by his feet.

_Rin?_

He remembers a curtain of red, a flurry of cherry blossoms―  

A deep, longing nostalgia.

**―― o0o- ――**

He steps into the clearing, and it's like the world snaps back into place. Distant memories floating in the depths of his mind suddenly  _so clear_  . He remembers long expanses of crimson woven across amber branches, a shower of pink dusting the strands and falling all around them. He feels a faint touch of skin, along with a gust of wind, curling behind his ears into his hair.

_Rin?_

He sees the world ― places he hasn't been, an era not his ― reflected in those red eyes. Rin draws wisp a of breath pass from his lips, and time slows.

Makoto opens his eyes, to see leaves stuck in Rin's hair, wayward strands sticking out every which way.

"Hi," Makoto says. And he asks himself, throughout all those lives together and the ones to come, if he would ever stop feeling this sense of   _wonder_  when meeting Rin for the first time again.

**―― o0o― ―-**

"Mako-chan has a cosmic boyfriend?!  _A lover that transcends time and space?!"_ Nagisa gasps. _"Mako-chan that's so romantic!"_  

"Cosmic... boyfriend?" Rin repeats, trying to wrap his head around the concept of being called a   _cosmic boyfriend_  . Whatever the fuck that is. "Makoto, I'm not sure I like your friends."

"Now, now, Rin."

"Did Rin-chan say something? What did he say?" Nagisa is looking around the clearing, hoping to catch a glance of anything that might clue him in on Rin's existence. He considers shape-shifting into his less cute, more terrifying bakeneko form right in front of him.

_Not worth the trouble._

"Um, well." Poor Makoto never had the honour of explaining this whole  _Rin Thing_ to his friends in any of his lifetimes. Just his luck that the one time it does happen,   _this_   is his current circle of friends.

Rin smacks a low hanging branch to Nagisa's face.

" _Ow―_   that's mean, Rin-chan!" he wails.

"Don't take it personally," Haruka says. "He's always been grumpy since the first time I've met him."

Nagisa eyes starts to _sparkle_ and Rin sees the way Makoto tenses. He expects him to hoist Nagisa and Rei over each of his shoulders and run away any minute now because he's not sure Makoto wants to  _deal with this_   

"You've seen him, Haru-chan?" 

Haruka nods. "More times than I care for."

" _Ohh!_ Please draw him for us! I want to know what he looks like!" Nagisa offers a pencil and a sketchbook with his head bowed.

Haruka takes them and starts drawing. Two sharp triangles ―  _ears, probably_ . A cloud-like mess of curved lines ―  _Rin's body?_  A long, lopsided tube thing that Rin is sure is supposed to be a rendition of his tail. By now he realises Haruka is not taking this seriously because  _fuck you, Haru, his teeth is not a row of misshapen triangles._  

The asshole then proceeds to hold up the sketchbook like it's a perfect score on a particularly gruelling maths paper. 

"Oh, I thought he would be... cuter."

"T-that's not beautiful."

"Don't be mean, Haru."

"Fuck you too, Nanase."

**―― o0o― ―-**

The first stroke is light, a long curved line on the white sheet. Another just beside, following the curve before curling further in at the end. Haruka keeps adding lines, in varying thickness and pressure, until it starts to take form ― Rin's hair in torrents, sweeping across the page.

He moves to sketch his face. Clean, crisp, this time, shaping his chin and neck.

Makoto watches each flick of Haruka's wrist, small scratches of graphite on paper capturing outline of Rin's eyes, sharp, intense. He starts to nod off, the sounds of pencil against paper soothing him into an enveloping ease as cross-hatches start to fill the lines, shading in the contours of Rin's profile.

He hears a soft pat, Haruka brushing off the page with his hand. 

"Oh, wow he's―" Nagisa has his mouth hanging open, looking intently at the sketch.

" _Beautiful."_  Rei gasps, pushing his glasses up his face. 

"Huh." Rin leans over to look at it closer, a hand curled under his chin. "That's not bad. But I'm a lot more handsome than that, right, Makoto?" 

Makoto stays silent, gaze fixated on the sketch. His eyes follows every line, every curve of Rin's hair, how it curls and tangles between outstretched fingers. He could almost see the miniscule movements, the subtle rise and fall of Rin's chest as he breathes ― the Rin in the drawing coming alive. 

"Haru," he says, slowly looking up towards his friend. "Can I keep this?"

Haruka shrugs and carefully tears the page from the book.

"You always look handsome, Rin. Don't worry." Makoto smiles, holding the piece of paper to his heart. "I'll frame this when I get home."

Rin blushes and turns away, trying to rub at the warm cerise that made its way to his cheeks and ears. "You're an idiot."

**―― o0o― ―-**

Rin starts to wonder if this really is the _Iwatobi Swim Club_  and not the _Iwatobi Useless Expeditions to Supposedly Haunted Places Club_ , the fifth time he finds himself in a secluded corner of forest in a remote mountain somewhere in the depths of Tottori.

Which sucks, he doesn't get to see Makoto in a swimsuit as much as he had hoped.

"Well, we're not really big on the competitive swimming thing," Nagisa says. "Rei -chan  can't swim, anyway."

"Excuse me?!" Rei shouts, offended.

"He's just here because he loves me." Nagisa plops his head on Rei's shoulder and nuzzles it lovingly. "So we have to do actual stuff as a club that doesn't involve fishing Rei -chan  out of the bottom of the pool with a net."

"What." Rin says. Just.  _What?_  

"Does that answer Rin-chan's question, Mako-chan?"

"You guys are fucking dumb."

Makoto peers nervously at Rin who's floating beside him, making faces at Nagisa. "Yeah," he lies. "He appreciates the explanation." 

 **―― o0o― ―**  

"It's not a haunted place this time, though. We're looking for a soda spring." Nagisa says during their hike through the forest. "Can Rin-chan drink soda?"

"I don't see why not. He drinks a lot of stuff, actually," Makoto muses, tapping a finger on his chin. 

"I bet you'd know that," Haru snorts.

For some reason, Makoto flushes beet red 

**―― o0o―- ―**

"Haru, please stop talking to the kappa, I want to go home and your friends are staring at you weird."

Haruka looks at Rin square in the eye, before turning back to the lake. His eyes softens, when the kappa reaches out to touch his finger. 

"Can I break up with Kisumi?" he says. "Kappa-san understands me so much better."

Makoto sighs. "Don't be like that, Haru. Kisumi's going to cry if he hears that."

Haruka shrugs, then starts to strip. "At least let me swim with Kappa-san for a bit."

"Haruuuu!"

**―― o0o― ―-**

The scene sort of reminds Rin of the lomography photos Haruka is so fond of ― saturated cyans under an overlay of pastel redwood filters. He's seen them, the photos neatly filed in an album he keeps on his desk.

Makoto and Rin at the beach, watching the sunset 

Makoto's hand clasped around Rin's, an afternoon walk home school.

Rin in the middle of a flower field, fisheye lenses distoring the perspective, a shower of petals accenting the focal point.

_Except..._

The picture is of an empty field, a still shot of a gust of petals around nothing.

_He's not in any of these pictures._

Rin watches his sparkler, joint at the tip with another as he takes light from Makoto's. It lights over a bucket of water, tiny fractals flying every which way. The reflected glow dances in his eyes, a blossom of a barrage of colours that takes him him in, pulls him into flash of sadness, mesmerising sparks reminding him of―

A quiet hiss, and he sees that the sparkler tip had fallen into the bucket below.

Makoto looks at him with a small smile, handing him the package of fireworks. "Here, you can try again. We still have more." 

**―― o0o― ―-**

Haruka looks towards the riverbank from the lantern in his hands, his grandmother's name enveloped in an illumination of soft orange. Makoto kneels down as he sets his lantern down onto the river.  _Ancestors of the Tachibana Family,_   it says, and Haruka is glad that Makoto didn't lose anyone close to him, this time.

_Someone else might, though. Soon enough._

He feels a pang at his chest, when the pulse of an overwhelming spiritual energy thrums in his ears. A brilliant, euphonious hum that leaves him sick to the stomach. It's hard to look, when he knows what it means, when Makoto's seems to glow brighter than the drifting lanterns.

**―― o0o― ―-**

"I don't know how much time you have left but― Rin―" His face is unreadable, but Rin feels how hard it is for Haruka to tell him, how this is hurting   _him_   too.

"I'm sorry." Haruka looks away, fists bunching the hem of his shirt.

"Don't be. Thank you. For telling me." 

"What are you going to do now?"

"There can never be enough time for me to spend with him." Rin smiles, really,  _really_   smiles, but Haruka could see the tiniest furrow of his eyebrows, the tears he's holding back. "So I guess all I can do is make the time that I do have count."

"You're hopeless." Haruka's voice cracks. "A hopeless, romantic idiot."

"Yeah, I know."

He finds a wet patch on the sleeve of his  _haori_ after he wipes his cheeks.

**―― o0o―- ―**

Makoto is wiping pollen off gold-banded lilies when Rin floats in through the classrooom windows, his red hair fluttering behind him, crystalline under the streaming sunlight as he materialises. His fingers gentle, delicate, soft pats of a damp rag on the pistils. Rin sits on the window sill, watching him, listening to quiet humming underlined by soft breaths.

"There we go."

Rin doesn't know when he closed his eyes. He feels a brush against his temple, curving behind his ear, stray strands of hair falling back against his face where Makoto pushed them aside.

A vase of lilies on the teacher's desk, three stems  now though  there were four.

Rin curls a finger, tingles blossoming across his knuckles when he finds it: the fourth flower, tucked in his hair.

"I should have Haru paint you, surrounded by lilies," Makoto says. 

"My hair probably wouldn't go too well with white."

"I'm sure you'll look beautiful." He turns back to the vase, idly rearranging the stalks. "Besides, I don't have a proper picture of you."

"You never stop trying, though." Rin eyes Makoto's pocket, where his phone is.

"You were with me in all those photos, it doesn't matter if you didn't show up. I know you're there." He never deletes them, Rin knows. A small, untitled folder with thirty-two photos. Thirty-two ill-focused photos, thirty-two photos with unbalanced composition – Makoto off the to side, negative space a shadow of where he should've been.

_Thirty-two reminders that he isn't―_

"Yeah, I'm always there," Rin says.

**―― o0o―- ―**

"I didn't know you were pretty vain yourself, Tachibana," Kisumi teases, in-between stealing Makoto's lunch and peering at Makoto's phone he's borrowing. He's grinning over Makoto's homescreen wallpaper―a selfie taken just this spring, of Makoto lying on a bed of blue hyacinths, slightly off to the side, looking not at the camera but sideways, grinning almost giddily at nothing. "Your pose is weird, let me teach you next time."

Makoto snatches his phone back, smiling secretively. "It's fine the way it is."

"You like looking at your own face so much, huh?"

"Yes, yes," Makoto indulges, thumb caressing the screen right where the empty spot next to his face is, and remembers Rin's face mushing against his own shoulder. He chuckles, and slips his phone back into his pocket.

Thirty-two photos with Rin that don't show Rin is there, but Makoto could perfectly recount what Rin is doing in each and every one of them.

**――-o0o――-**

"You'd be locked inside, if you don't go home soon." Rin glances at the clock―nearly five thirty. The school ground is almost deserted.

Makoto, leaning sideways against the windowsill, turns to him with a small, contented smile. Slowly, his right arm opens, fingers beckoning Rin to come over, and Rin, as usual, cannot refuse.

He floats into Makoto's arm, places himself on Makoto's lap. Makoto laughs, nuzzling his nape, exposed today for his hair is tied up high in a ponytail. "You're heavy."

Rin looks at him in mock-anger. "Are you calling me fat?"

"Shush," Makoto swats at his hand, and Rin reluctantly moves away, pulls a chair closer to Makoto's desk instead. It makes a loud scraping sound that echoes in the empty classroom―the only schoolbags left are Makoto's own and Haruka's, who's still somewhere in the pool when Rin last left him.

Makoto's phone blinks, shows a new title of a song, and Rin looks up to see Makoto offering one half of his earphone.

"OLDCODEX?" Rin asks, taking the half he's offered and tucking it into his ear.

"Ah, not really? It's a new duet―OLDCODEX's vocalist and another singer in the same line of job." Makoto's finger slides across his phone, and Rin hears the thrum of bass and the slightly harsh melody of the guitar starting the song. The vocals pick up―one strong and steady and the other one smooth and slightly flirty. "Ran bought the CD," Makoto explains, relaxing as Rin leans against his side, and they both fall into silence.

The rocking guitar in their ears are a contrast to the slowly dimming classroom―the last rays of the sun washing the interior in hues of warm oranges and pale red, quiet in the ticking of the clock on the wall. The song slides smoothly to begin a new song― a soft ballad, this time, a gentle flowing melody that wafts in the air, an atmospheric harmony, lulling them with blanket of quiet lethargy.

Makoto starts humming lightly, sounding almost sleepy. Rin hunches over   the desk, watching a bunch of autumn leaves flutter across the window outside, riding the wind. He wonders if those bunch would reach the flower field, if the wind is strong enough to fly them to the beds of  cosmos .

Makoto's voice fades away, head nodding off, before dropping onto the desk right next to Rin's arm, almost nuzzling. Soft snores weave in between the slow piano in Rin's left ear. Rin smiles, lets his fingers lazily trace the tips of Makoto's hair, and wonders if he should suggest the next swimming club outing to their special field of flowers.

 _Ah_ , he thinks, as sleep slowly clouds his mind,  _I guess this is how normal students feel_.

It feels like it's been a long time, but when Rin starts awake, there's a jacket thrown almost haphazardly over his and Makoto's shoulders. He rubs his eyes, catches Haruka on the seat diagonal from their own, sketching absently with the sound of scritch-scratch on his paper.

"It's almost six," Haruka says mildly, but he doesn't look up from his sketchbook.

Rin yawns. "Five minutes," he mumbles, and drops his head back on the desk, pressing warmly against Makoto's side.

The sounds of Haruka's pencil against paper fades to a lulling background noise.

**――-o0o――-**

"Mako-chaaan!" yells Nagisa from the other end of the  seco nd year hallway. He barrels into Makoto and starts nuzzling his head against his back. "Can I borrow Rin-chan?"

"Um?" Makoto says intelligibly, trying to face Nagisa and avoid the ticklish feeling between his shoulder blades. Nagisa moves along with him, continuing his quest of generating static electricity between his hair and Makoto's blazer.

"My class is doing a haunted house!" he gives in lieu of an explanation.

Makoto blinks.

"Rin-chan would make a great additition to our ghostly line up!"

He tilts his head and blinks again. "Oh!" Makoto's face lights up the moment he gets it. "You want Rin to help scare people?"

"Yup! He can help with my section of the maze." He bounces a step back and grins. "I'm not very scary and Rei -chan  thinks dressing up as a ghost isn't beautiful."

"I'm not sure I approve of using Rin for things like that." A scratch to his cheek. "He might not want to?"

"Come on, please, Mako-chan? Don't you want to make memories?"

_He wouldn't be the one making them, though._

Makoto looks into Nagisa's wide, persuasive eyes and sighs. "I'll ask him, okay?"

**―― o0o― ―-**

Rin agrees in the end, at the expense of his month's allowance and begging Haruka to save him at least a few dozen servings of candied sweet potatoes from their class cafe.

**―― o0o― ―-**

He hears terrified screams, every time he passes Nagisa's class.

He hears stories about someone actually pissing their pants. 

_Is there such a thing as taking things too seriously at a haunted house?_

The queue stretches to the end of the hallway as Nagisa happily accepts one hundred yen coins in exchange for impending heart attacks.

At least business seems to be doing well.

**―― o0o― ―-**

He thinks that it's worth it, when he sees Rin's eyes sparkle at all the different food he sets on the picnic blanket.

"Hell yeah," Rin says, picking up a stick of chocobanana. "Sign me up for this shit again next year!"

Makoto goes back to weeping for his wallet. 

**―― o0o― ―-**

Makoto holds out his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

Rin looks at the open palm offered to him, and then to Makoto's eyes. Light flickers in the depths of green, a glimmer of orange from the bonfire behind them teasing the side of Makoto's face.

He hears folk music starting to play in the distance, the rhythmic taps as people fall into the steps ― a slow dance to end the night.

It feels like they're a world away, at the far edge of the schoolyard, by the chain link fence, just the two of them.

"You'd look weird, dancing alone in the corner."

"I'm not alone." Makoto smiles and Rin wonders how he could be so patient when Rin is―

He moves forward, setting his hand atop Makoto's. He doesn't look down, to where the ground doesn't catch his footprints.

Behind the oak tree, he could pretend that it's just the two of them, in a world where they're in the same plane of existence. A little bubble against reality.

Rin's a student, just like Makoto, sharing a dance into the evening. They've worked hard for the festival, now rewarding themselves, making memories last, surrounded by their friends.

_Surrounded―_

He sees Haruka from behind Makoto's shoulders. He's sitting by the bonfire, watching Nagisa and Rei fumble in their steps, hand holding Kisumi's on the ground between them, their silhouettes bathed in a warm glow. He thinks of the dark shadows cast over him, and they suddenly feel so far,  _so very far away, and out of reach, and―_  

"Rin." Makoto's voice cuts through his train of thought. "It's okay. I'm okay, like this. Right now."

― **―**   **o0o- ――**

"I'm not," he mutters.

He watches Makoto close the front door behind him, lets the lingering feeling of Makoto's lips on his cheek simmer away.

"I'm not okay, like this."

He thinks of the trill that washed over him, that seeped under his skin and echoed in his ears. A weight settles around his shoulders, drops in his stomach as cold dread fills him when they part. He thinks he felt what Haruka had told him before ― the pulse of Makoto's soul.

One last look at Makoto's window and Rin turns away, lets himself float between rows of dim street lights down the stone steps.

_'His soul is near refined, Rin.' Haruka had said, light from the lanterns in the river reflected eerily in his eyes. 'If not this life, soon. Makoto will ascend.'_

He remembers the spider lilies in full bloom on the riverbank, blood red cutting into their calves with the promise of a heartache.

How could he be okay,  _when he's_ ― _when they have whole worlds between them._  

 **――-o0o――-**

Makoto stares long at the form in his hand, handed by Amakata-sensei earlier, his pen hovering in the column that reads:   _first choice_  .

The weight of Rin's back against his own feels reassuring.

"Go for it," Rin says, conviction clear in his voice. "I'll come with you."

Makoto takes a deep breath. "Promise?"

"I'll work hard, Tachibana-san," Rin knocks the back of their heads together gently, laughing, and really, that's all the encouragement that Makoto needs.

He writes down:   _University of Tokyo, Department of Medicine._  

**――-o0o――-**

The image is a quiet one: in the late winters of graduation, Makoto with a flower corsage on the breast pocket of his blazer, reaching out to him with a smile on his face.

"Our uniform isn't a gakuran but..." He ducks his head into his scarf, as if trying to hide the reds on his cheeks. 

The second button from the top, the one closest to the heart.

"This would be closer to your liver, you dumbass," Rin says, punching Makoto lightly on the shoulder. He feels like crying, just a little, when he closes his hand over Makoto's. "But still, thank you." 

**――-o0o――-**

Being in Tokyo exhausts him.

It's just a matter of being too far away from the cherry blossom tree he's sealed to, Rin supposes. He can feel its tug, sometimes, less insistent as months fly by, and even though it hasn't been a problem―not when he could now travel between Tokyo and Iwatobi in a blink of an eye―straining against his seal, being far away from the tree, saps his strength, little by little.

But it's worth it, because Tokyo is exciting.

The rush of people, right and left, and the blinding lights that never seems to ever dim. The awful smell of pollution, contrasting the city parks. Small flower fields arranged so neatly―buds and petals in rows, shrubs and bushes in clusters. The glamor of Roppongi, the sleepless Shibuya. The complicated, confusing subway lines and the ever-crowded Shinjuku station. It's all so very new, and Rin feels like a wide-eyed kid as he wakes up each day in the same narrow bed Makoto has in his sharehouse room.

Every day is almost like an adventure.

"You forgot your train card!" Rin yells at Makoto just after the door closes behind him. He hears Makoto's running steps grow in distance, and sighs, before swiping the card off the small kotatsu and blinks himself to the subway station.

**――-o0o――-**

"Makoto."

"Hmm."

"Makoto," he nips at the juncture between Makoto's jaw and his neck, almost  _tasting_  his pulse.

Makoto swats absently at him.

"Maaa-kooo-tooo~"

"Rin, I have homework."

Rin sinks his teeth where Makoto's neck meets his shoulder tantalizingly.

Makoto groans in surrender.

**――-o0o――-**

"Where are you going today?" Makoto asks from behind his morning coffee cup―two blocks of sugar, too sweet for Rin's taste, except when he's tasting it straight from Makoto's mouth. "I have class until five, and my shift isn't until nine."

Rin's eyes brighten. "Let's go on a date."

**――-o0o――-**

They decide to go watch a movie.

It doesn't feel like a date, not really, when he's spending almost all his time by Makoto's side now. But it's nice, that Makoto purposefully buys two tickets even though he'd be seen going into the theatre alone. It's nice that they're watching sappy chick flicks just because Rin is curious (and Makoto might not admit it, but the main female role is totally his favorite). They share popcorn and drinks, and Makoto steals kisses every time the lead male kisses the heroine.

The final scene in the movie takes place in the bridge of Odaiba. Makoto takes Rin's hand and squeezes it, and says, "Let's go there on summer vacation."

It's a promise. Rin disregards the slight tug of the cherry blossom tree in him, and squeezes Makoto's hand back.

"Let's go."

**――-o0o―――**

It's not a good idea, after all, going to Odaiba.

They're in the bus, approaching the bridge that connects Odaiba to the main island―the sea glittering under the scorching summer sun and there are beads of sweat on Makoto's forehead―when suddenly the seal strains tighter, tenser, and the tug inside Rin becomes unbearable.

He loses his breath and has a second to choke out Makoto's name, before something in him explodes in excruciating pain, and the seal   _snaps_  .

**――-o0o――-**

Rin vanishes.

Something in Makoto freezes at the sudden lack of presence on his side.

"Rin..?" he whispers. Stands up, lets his gaze roam all over the bus. Sticks his head out of the window, ignoring the driver's protest, just to make sure Rin isn't outside, somehow.

Nothing.

"Hey," he murmurs under his breath shakily, face pale. "This isn't funny. Rin?"

No answer.

The ice in him solidifies.

Makoto doesn't remember ever being so  _alone_.

**――-o0o――-**

 

He runs around. He doesn't know where, but he runs, eyes wild as he searches among the throngs of people, panic and fear gripping his heart, and all he could think is  _he's gone, gone, he's not here, he's gone―_  

He rides the bus back to Tokyo, traces back their path, checks all Rin's favorite spots: Ueno Kouen, the gazebo in Shinjuku Gyoen, the convenient store close to Makoto's department building, the riverbank of Arakawa that they sometimes pass on their morning run. He even tries the closest temples and shrines from his sharehouse, but Rin is nowhere.

He thinks of a book he once read on  _Tenrikyo_ ―on exorcism and  _yamabushi_ the ascetic hermits of the mountains, and  _what are the odds Rin's gotten exorcised_?

He laughs at himself, shaking as he crouches down on the street running along the riverbank, and tries not to cry.

**――-o0o――-**

He doesn't even realize that his phone went dead, so it's a surprise to see Haruka's message flashing once he charges and switches it on.

_I tried calling you. Go on skype._

Still with a heavy heart, Makoto settles before his laptop and goes online. The connection's hindered by the coming storm tonight, so it takes awhile to video-call Haruka, but then Haruka's voice comes, tinny and crackling, but clear enough: "Makoto?"

"Hey, Haru," his voice sounds weird even in his ears―subdued and exhausted. The screen is still dark―the video doesn't seem to be working. "I don't think it's the right time―"

"I thought I felt this weird energy," Haruka cuts him off, his tone thoughtful, and Makoto hears him tapping away on the keyboard. "Snapping back. Passing through. So I decided to check―one second."

The screen flickers, once, twice, and then it clears, and Makoto sees a coat of familiar chestnut ball of fur.

"I found this cat under the tree, look." Haruka says, deadpan.

"Fuck you too, Haru," the cat grouches, one paw reaching up to scratch his ear. Haruka's lips twitch up, flicking a finger at the cat's nose, earning an annoyed growl for his trouble, and Makoto just starts laughing.

"Hey," Rin, now in his cute cat form, paws on the screen. "Makoto, goddammit."

"I thought―" Makoto chokes on his laughter, tears brimming in his eyes even as he grins at the sight of Rin. It's been so many lifetimes ago, since he last saw Rin in his cat form. "Nevermind. You were alright, that's―that's good. Rin, oh my god."

"Sorry." Rin's eyes soften. "I didn't pay too much attention to the seal lately, so that was totally unintended." He paws on the screen again, and Makoto reaches out with a finger, bumps it against the screen, touching the paw offered through the video. "I'm okay, though. Promise."

"He can't shift to his human form for a few days yet," Haruka calls out somewhere at the back.

The way Rin scowls is almost uncanny. "Shut up, Haru, you're the one who's going to help me recover."

"I have deadlines," Haruka sighs, long-suffering, but he sounds more amused than anything. Rin looks like he's going to roll his eyes, if he's in his human form. "Makoto, buy me mackerel pizza."

"Yes, yes," Makoto chuckles, one finger stroking the screen where he's touching Rin's paw. "Is he going to be okay, Haru?"

"He just needs to recharge." The answer comes almost distractedly, and there are sounds of pencil scraping against paper in the background. Haruka is sketching. "Actually, he should probably recharge once a month or something."

"I am _okay_  ," Rin insists with a low, annoyed growl. He turns back to Makoto, this time bumping his head to the screen, and sniffs. Makoto has to swallow back an unmanly squeal at how cute he looks. "Be back there in a few days, Makoto."

"Marc the Bagpiper will be at Yoyogi Park tomorrow," Makoto says. "I'll record his performance for you."

Rin beams.

**――-o0o――-**

Tottori Capital is ever-crowded, and it's times like this Rin thinks he's glad he's not human. At least he doesn't have to squeeze into the morning rush every morning like Makoto does to get to work. He'd just wake up and think of Makoto's office and wait, because that's what he always does when it comes to Makoto anyway.

Makoto rushes into the fire station, hair tousled, eyes bright as he greets his colleagues―the ever-present gentle smile already fixed on his lips. He always takes the morning shift at the fire station, leaving later after lunch to help with Haruka's restaurant where Rin likes to nibble food from―Haruka makes a mean meat croissant, and he always makes sure to set out a plate for Rin when they come over, even if no one else sees Rin.

Maybe, if Makoto isn't busy this evening, they could come out to the flower field and spend some time there before going back to Makoto's house.

Rin lounges on Makoto's desk, leaning against the wall, and he's looking up to trace the cracks on the ceilings with his eyes when Makoto finally throws his jacket on his rolling chair.

"Rin," a quiet murmur, because Makoto is still the only one who could see him. Rin hums, still keeping his eyes on the cracks, tries not to grin as locks of red strands slip off from his shoulders when he lets his head falls back, baring his throat in one tantalizing motion. "Rin, stop that!"

"Stop what," his tone is lazy, because it's a warm morning, the kind of morning that's Rin's favorite, one that makes him want to stretch and curl and sleep under the sun.

Makoto makes a noise like he's in pain, and Rin finally turns to him―his gaze lazy but challenging, eyelids half-dropping,  _teasing_.

The shade of red on Makoto's cheeks is as deep as the color of roses on his table―ones Rin like to pluck from the bush near the shrine and leave on Makoto's table very early in the morning, every single day―and Makoto is fastidiously trying not to look at him, but his hand twitches in abortive motions, like he's trying to keep himself from reaching out and touch, and is  _this_ close to failing.

Rin laughs. "Office hours, you should be good," he grins, and throws his head back again with a laugh because teasing Makoto is the most entertaining thing ever.

Makoto holds on for twenty solid minutes before he throws Rin a half-hearted glare and stumbles to the direction of the toilet. Rin follows after his trail, floating with a gleeful laugh, and oh, he has _so many ideas_ to tease Makoto even more, now.

**――-o0o――-**

There's a kid sitting under the cherry blossom tree when Rin comes back from the flower field where ammobiums are starting to wilt. Green eyes and brown hair, playing with the old orange umbrella Rin left leaning on the bark of the tree, and Rin's heart leaps into his throat.

The kid―barely thirteen, Rin thinks―looks up and beams brightly before breaking into a sprint, arms open in the mid of late summer breeze. Rin meets him halfway, sweeps him up and into a kiss, and Makoto laughs and laughs amidst the stream of memories crashing on them: countless lifetimes, countless meetings and farewells and not-farewells, tinted with crimson red and flurries of cherry blossom petals and a single promise that never changes with time.

"I've missed you, too," Makoto breathes, grinning from ear-to-ear, and laughs when Rin licks the tip of his nose. He leans up to kiss Rin once again, hums around the happier memories exchanged this time, fingers threading in Rin's red strands, gripping gently as they drape over his still-growing body, before reaching up to brush Rin's bangs sideways, delicately tucking them behind Rin's ear.

Rin lets himself fall to his knees, arms around Makoto's hips, ear pressing against Makoto's chest as he counts each heart beat―  _he's here, he's back, he found me still―_  

"Rin?" Makoto tugs lightly on his hair, spilling to reach the ground since Rin hadn't bothered to tie it back lately. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Rin doesn't miss a beat. He rises to his feet, bends down to peck Makoto's lips once again, and feels a comforting pat on his cheek for that. He laces his fingers with Makoto, grins almost roguely, and leads him back to the tree.

**――-o0o――-**

"Someone is waiting to scare you behind that gravestone," Rin says, almost bored, floating above Makoto and Haruka as they made their way through rows of graves in the temple's backyard. Frankly, Rin doesn't really understand why humans love to do this shit―dividing themselves into two teams and trying to outscare the other when really, all they have to do if they wanted to be scared off is stay still in the middle of the graveyard and wait for Rin's friends to come over and play.

Makoto whimpers. Haruka just shines their lantern in the general direction Rin pointed. "Yamazaki."

"You're not supposed to guess who the fuck plays the ghost," Yamazaki grumbles, ducking back behind the gravestone in disinterest as they pass. Makoto manages catches the gruesome look of Yamazaki's face, though, visibly wincing and looking the other way so fast Rin is amazed his head hadn't snapped off.

There is a good-natured snort. "Tachibana, you'd piss yourself if you get to see Mikoshiba's getup."

Rin laughs at the teasing comment, amused, as Haruka sends back a glare at Yamazaki. Seventeen year-olds are so easy to rile up. Not that Rin is one to talk―he doesn't even need to be seventeen to get riled up easily, but that's beside the point.

"I want to go home," Makoto sniffs, and Rin drapes himself over the boy, laughter ringing as he lets Makoto hide his face behind the sleeves of his   _haori_  .

**――-o0o――-**

There's a loud screech as the bus swerves, and Rin has a second to catch Makoto's terrified look before the side of the bus caves in, imploding inwards as the truck hits. His world explodes in bursts of glass and metal, blood splattering his face, the stench of tang so sharp he could taste it in the back of his throat as he looks down, to the debris, the remnants of life scattered below his feet. A spider web crack on the window shatters, pieces of glass trickles onto the ground.

Rin stands alone, eyes wide, bathed in deep red, turning the color of black roses.

He stares at where Makoto's seat used to be, now crushed completely by metal, leaving one limp hand hanging out.

His scream is the very sound of a heartbreak.

**――-o0o――-**

Makoto's fingers pinch his cheek lightly.

"Don't think about that."

There's horror in his eyes, too, and Rin disentangles themselves to plop himself properly over Makoto. Swimming does his body good―Rin's eyes rake their way down Makoto's bare skin and muscles, tongue darting to taste a bead of sweat clinging to Makoto's chest. "Sorry."

Makoto―Japan's best backstroke swimmer now―draws him up for another kiss.

The image of death is replaced by one of their very first kiss, and Rin relaxes.

**――-o0o――-**

On the day Makoto finally retires from swimming, Rin hands him a pair of scissors.

"I want you to cut my hair short," Rin answers the unspoken question in Makoto's eyes with a grin. "It's getting troublesome."

Makoto's hands tremble slightly, eyes a mix of excitement and anxiety and touched. "Haru could do this better than me, Rin. You know he's good with things like this."

Rin reaches out, clasping Makoto's hands over the scissors, brings them up and presses his lips gently against Makoto's knuckles, looking up at him from under his lashes. "Makoto, please."

"Why?" Makoto's voice is soft, almost a whisper. "You never cut your hair ―you can manipulate your form, Rin―you love your hair like this, I know you do. Why?"

Rin snorts. "It's not a big deal, don't make such a fuss about it." He turns away from Makoto's inquisitive gaze, fixes his eyes on the rows of white daffodils, and mutters, "Besides, this way you'd leave a permanent change on me. Somehow."

Makoto's eyes widen. "Rin..."

"I mean," Heat is crawling up his face, inch by inch, and Rin tries to fight it even though he knows it's inevitable―his hair is a personal thing, something that's more intimate to him than the quiet whispers he carves against Makoto's skin almost every night. "This. You're the only one I'd allow to do this, so."

Makoto's hands tighten around both the scissors and Rin's for a moment. "What if I mess it up?"

"You won't. I trust you."

**――-o0o――-**

Makoto's hands are steady as the move the scissors, nipping lightly at the red strands draping freely along Rin's back, all the way to his hips. There's a certain quiet in the hum of the forest as Rin watches his hair falls inch by inch onto the white blanket he's sitting on. The sounds of each snip of the scissors echoes clearly in his ears, laces Makoto's soft breath as he works.

When the edge of the scissors teases his nape, Makoto stops. Rin tilts his head slightly, questiongly.

"Can we leave it like this?" Makoto asks, sounding sheepish. "You look really good, Rin."

Rin grins up at him. "Your opinion doesn't count―I always look good."

Makoto chuckles, bends down to place a light kiss on Rin's nape, now only covered by the tips of his hair, leaving him with an odd feeling of nakedness somehow. "Just stating the facts." He steals another peck on Rin's nape, before brushing down Rin's hair, the tips barely touching his shoulders now. "Do you want to tie it back?"

"Tie it for me," Rin says, and Makoto obliges. His fingers rest almost teasingly on Rin's nape, stroking almost absently, and Rin shivers.

"Feels weird," he complains half-heartedly, and Makoto laughs, arms going around Rin's shoudlers and pulling him back into his arms.

Rin gladly follows the pull.

**――-o0o――-**

They put Rin's hair and a bit of Makoto's own into a small box along with the scissors, then dig under the cherry blossom tree to bury the box there.

Haruka calls them both saps when they tell him about it, but his lips twitch up behind the rim of his cup of coffee.

**――-o0o――-**

A girl passes by their table, throwing an over-friendly smile at both Makoto and Haruka.

A young man ogles Makoto's ass, when Rin sends him to order more of the wasabi french fries.

"Look at the popular guy go," Rin says, and Haruka flicks a fry at him.

"Make up your mind: be jealous or be smug, don't do both."

**――-o0o――-**

"Mikoshiba," Rin repeats, when he sees Mikoshiba Seijuurou clasping his hand around Haruka's own. "Of all people―Haru, Sousuke had his eyes on you!"

"I happen to fall in love with him," Haruka says with a straight face. Next to him, Seijuurou's eyes soften and he looks like he's about to coo. Makoto wisely shakes his head at him.

"You swam in castle moats just to get a glimpse of Sousuke guarding the castle," Rin accuses.

"He what?" Makoto blinks.

"What did he say?" Seijuurou pipes up, curiously looking at the general direction Haruka is speaking to.

Haruka looks affronted, like Rin has just accused him on doing the most outrageous thing. " _He_ was the one trying to get a glimpse of me."

Rin snorts. "Sure, you have nothing to do with the fact that you always get into the moats when it's Sousuke's shift."

"Did not," Haruka counters despite the faint red crossing his face.

"Who is this ' _he_ '?" Seijuurou pokes Haruka's arm, which Haruka swats good-naturedly, ignoring Seijuurou's pout.

"Oh my god," Makoto says, muffling his laughter.

**――-o0o――-**

Rin's  chest heaves under Makoto's own, chasing the last rush of pleasure as Makoto mouths at the underside of his jaw, and he's suddenly struck by the craziest of idea.

Wishful thinking, perhaps, is the more correct term.

"Let's get married," he says against Makoto's forehead, the words thin in the darkness of Makoto's room, and somehow it gives him courage, gives him the insanity he needs to form the idea into words. "Simple gold bands will do. We'll exchange a cup of   _kuroki_  , under the rain of cherry blossoms when forget-me-nots are blooming. Dress up in suits, maybe―Haru wouldn't mind painting our wedding picture―"

In his arms, Makoto stiffens.

"―we'll invite the spirits around the temple and the forest. We could go to Tokyo for the honeymoon―let's see if I could reach Odaiba, this time. We could book a love hotel room, they have interesting toys, don't the―"

Lips pressing against his own, cutting him short, stealing his breath away, and Rin almost laughs at the raw sound of pleasure torn off his throat.

"Yes," Makoto growls, all tongue and teeth, almost desperate―but he's grinning, cheeks stretched so wide it looks like it hurts, and Rin loses all air in his lungs at the fevered look in Makoto's eyes―so full of love, with a touch of stubbornness and rebellious streak that Rin would proudly take responsibility of. "Yes, yes, Rin, I'd marry you―yes. Yes."

A sense of warmth and excitement breaks in Rin, surging up to envelope his whole being with a touch of giddiness tickling his throat. He feels like shouting, like laughing out loud, like running through the forest and announcing to the whole world that they're doing this, insane as it is, he'd have Makoto's hand in marriage―

"What kind of food should we serve for the spirits we invite?" Makoto asks against the corner of Rin's mouth, and laughter bubbles up and out of Rin's mouth, filling the scant spaces between them.

**――-o0o――-**

The rings are simple gold bands, and Rin nearly cries at the sight of _chikai no kotoba_ engraved in the insides of the rings.

They wear white, both of them. Forget-me-nots are scattered beneath their feet, a beautiful bed of sky blue, and the cherry blossom in full-bloom becomes a canopy above their heads, white-pink petals showering them with the scent of spring thick in their nose.

"Do you," Haruka's voice is steady, the curve of his lips spelling out pride even more than the smile he gave Makoto when Makoto won the silver for Japan. "Tachibana Makoto, take Matsuoka Rin as your spouse, in sickness and health―"

Rin's heart sings with every syllable out of Haruka's mouth.

Makoto says, softly, "I do," and Rin closes his eyes in contentment.

**――-o0o――-**

"Coach Tachibana," one of the kids pipes up, curious. "You always wear a wedding ring, but where's your spouse?"

The mother of the kid splutters. "Miho, you shouldn't ask things like that! I'm so sorry, Tachibana-san, you know how kids are, always curious―"

"It's alright," Makoto smiles, then drops on one knee to face the kid. "He's around. You just can't see him."

She tilts her head. "Can he hear us? Or see us?"

Makoto glances at where Rin hovers, an arm reach away, and tries not to laugh. "Yes, of course he can."

The kid beams. "Then, Coach Tachibana's spouse, I hope you'd come to Coach's farewell party tomorrow!"

Makoto chuckles. "I'm sure he will," he says, pats the kid's head affectionately before turning to her mother. He wants to laugh at the mother's stricken look―at the pity and sympathy clear in those eyes. "Amakata-san, thank you for coming."

Amakata shakes her head. "I'm really sorry about that, Miho is a curious little thing, she can't help it, I suppose. I should teach her to be more sensitive about these things." The young mother peers closely at Makoto. "I hope she didn't―bring back sad memories for you, Tachibana-san."

Behind Makoto, Rin bursts out laughing.

**――-o0o――-**

"I bet they think you were dumped." Rin's eyes are dancing the whole way back home,. "Or perhaps that your ' _spouse_ ' is dead."

Makoto swats at him. "Don't be mean."

"It's hilarious."

"They mean well."

"Yeah," Rin snickers, grinning. "At least with this, nobody would even think of offering you their daughters or sons' hands in marriage anymore."

Makoto decides to shut him up with a kiss.

**――-o0o――-**

Makoto ages gracefully.

He has laugh lines crinkling his eyes, a testament to the smiles he gives to people all his life. His hair is graying instead of turning white, giving him the last streak of youthfulness to fool people about his age. He still stands up straight, could still go on his morning jog albeit the distance he covers keep shortening. He's no longer muscly, and he does have some flabby belly, which Rin likes to tease him about, but what matters is he looks happy―remains happy.

Rin doesn't wish for much, this lifetime. Not when he still can't reach Odaiba, after so long.

But mortals are mortals, after all.

The time of farewell draws close.

This time, Haruka goes first.

**――-o0o――-**

"Hey," Haruka murmurs, eyes fluttering, like he doesn't have enough energy to keep them open. Propped against Seijuurou's shoulder, he looks almost too content to stay awake. His gaze follows Rin as he settles by the edge of the bed, patting Haruka's feet lightly.

"Hi, Haru," Makoto says, one hand reaching out to hold Haruka's right hand, a gentle smile on his lips. He meets Seijuurou's eyes over Haruka's shoulders, and the smile turns wistful. "How are you feeling today?"

Haruka makes a non-committal noise at the back of his throat. "I want to make my own breakfast."

Seijuurou barks a hearty laugh, one arm squeezing Haruka's shoulder. "Nothing beats you, huh?"

Makoto chuckles, indulging. "Let's see if we're allowed to bring you the waffle-maker tomorrow."

"Only if you promise to make us breakfast, too," Rin pipes up, the grin stretching his lips somehow feels normal, compared to the last few days. Perhaps it's the contented look in Haruka's face, or perhaps it's the lack of of sadness marring both Makoto and Seijuuro's face. But his grin comes easy, almost as content as the aura Haruka is exuding. "I want vanilla waffles."

Haruka looks at him, amusement clear in his eyes. "Then stop crying."

Rin blinks. "Huh?"

"Oh, Rin," Makoto says, arms reaching out, half-chuckling. "It's alright."

Rin tastes salt, even as he drifts forward into Makoto's open arms.

**――-o0o――-**

They stay way past the visiting hours, talk about nothing and everything, until suddenly Haruka says, "Oh, he fell asleep."

Makoto hides a smile. "He doesn't cry much, so it probably takes all his energy."

A huff slips past Haruka's lips. "Even though he knows he'd see me again in the next lifetime."

Makoto's hand tightens around Haruka's. "Don't say that, Haru," he chides. "You know it never gets any easier, for him."

There's a thin smile curving up Haruka's lips. "I know. What was he thinking, involving himself with mortals."

"He's brave," Seijuurou comments, head nestling in the crook of Haruka's neck. Haruka pats him lightly on the head, presses a soft kiss on the side of his temple, murmurs something inaudible that makes Seijuurou grin his old dopey grin, and then lets out a sigh―content and relieved, if touched with a bit of sadness.

He squeezes Makoto's hand weakly, eyes fluttering. "I guess," he says softly, syllables vanishing into the air as soon as they touch it. "It's goodbye."

Makoto closes his eyes, holding Haruka's hand tighter. "Thank you, Haru."

"Mm," Haruka murmurs, stares long into Makoto's eyes, and for one short moment, his smile just looks extremely sad.

He slips away before Rin even wakes up.

**――-o0o――-**

Haruka's funeral is a quiet affair. Seijuurou doesn't even cry, not until Momotarou hugs him so tightly like he could break anytime, as if he wants to hold his older brother together. Nagisa bawls into Makoto's shirt, almost like the time Rei passed away in a car accident. The twins help with the funeral arrangement, and Makoto is just glad neither he or Seijuurou has to do much, and is left to grieve properly.

When it's all over and Makoto holds a tiny urn containing a little bit of Haruka's ashes, he leans against Rin's arm and asks, "Are you okay?"

Rin's breath catches. "I will." The answer sounds like a promise. "I'll always be."

"Thank you," Makoto whispers, then closes the last gap between their lips.

The memory of Haruka's last goodbye envelopes them both.

**――-o0o――-**

He goes with Makoto everywhere now, doesn't even come back to the cherry blossom tree unless it's extremely necessary. They're together almost all the time now―Rin wakes up to Makoto's morning breath and sleeps to the sound of Makoto's heartbeat, bathes together when it's not too cold, and goes with him on morning jogs on the day Makoto doesn't take too long to wake up.

Makoto is winded barely 200 meters into their run, nowadays.

Rin tries not to remember Makoto sitting underneath the cherry blossom tree, tries to stop the echoing words of the old poem― _Although its scent still lingers on_ , he hears in Makoto's voice,  _The form of a flower has scattered away_ ―tries not to remember the way Makoto's white hair tilts under the stream of his own long, red hair, his smile old with a touch of exhaustion, his hand too frail against his cheek―

"Rin," Makoto breaks his thoughts. Rin starts, eyes too wide, and sees Makoto smile.

Old, with a touch of exhaustion.

Rin lets a shaky breath out of his lips.

At least this time, he can stay by Makoto's side.

"Makoto." He nods with a small smile.

**――-o0o―-**

Then Makoto slips. Ungracefully.

He falls on the floor of their bedroom, his wedding band glinting for one short second before it grazes the wooden floor. Rin is by his side in a heartbeat, thrumming with worry and fear, and Makoto laughs like he's only just got a papercut.

"Ow," he says when Rin tries to help him up, voice laced with mirth. "I don't think I can get up. I hope I didn't break anything."

"Stupid Makoto," Rin tells him, torn between crying and laughing, and settles for a frown. "I'll get you your phone."

**――-o0o――-**

"Rin!"

"Hmm?"

"Riiin!  _"_  

"Yeah?"

"Rii-  _iiinn!_  "

"What is it?"  Rin tears his gaze away from the manga he's holding, turning to Makoto almost exasperatedly, who's leaning against the kitchen counter, his crutch abandoned an arm reach away, holding a steaming mug of coffee.

Makoto smiles, raises his mug to hide his smile, eyes dancing. "I just wanted to say your name. You have a very nice name, Rin."

The heat goes up his face so fast, Rin is actually gets dizzy for a short moment.

"Idiooot," he says, puts down the manga in favor of reaching out to take Makoto's mug away and kisses him deeply.

**――-o0o――-**

One morning, Makoto wakes up early and painstakingly goes through motions in the kitchen, telling Rin to stay in bed, which is stupid, because Makoto can't cook shit. The last time he tried, the egg exploded in the microwave.

Rin's missed Haruka's food terribly, to be honest.

It takes four full hours for Makoto to peek back into their bedroom, looking sheepish, and by the time Rin follows him to the kitchen, the sun is already high up in the sky. Makoto scratches his head, looking apologetic, and begins with an "I'm so sorry."

Rin raises an eyebrow. "Did you burn the kitchen down?"

"Uh," Makoto pales. "No―not quite? I nearly set the oven on fire but it's―not on fire, now, so it's fine." He laughs, managing to look like a puppy when he's pushing eighty, how ridiculous. "I burnt most of your pancakes, though."

"Pancakes?" And then a plate of two stacked, steaming pancakes is slid before him, drizzled with honey and decorated in lopsided cream swirls. "Oh my god."

"I made sure that we won't die if we eat them," Makoto pipes in hopefully.

And it is pretty good―not as good as Haruka's, but Rin recognizes Haruka's apricot-and-pecans pancake recipe with his heart to note the slight hint of cinnamon enough to counter the sweetness he doesn't usually like.

It's not perfect, but it's good enough.

"Brown sugar?" Rin says lightly, offering a bite that Makoto gladly accepts.

"Brown sugar," Makoto confirms between a mouthful, and Rin leans forward to lick the remnants of honey on the corner of his lips. 

It tastes sweeter than it's supposed to be.

**――-o0o――-**

Rin showers their room with nemophilas and dogwoods, with petals of deep red roses scattering under his feet, and Makoto laughs like a kid.

"Where did you even get all of these?"

"Magic," Rin smirks. "I once got mistaken for a god, after all."

**――-o0o――-**

Makoto takes longer and longer to wake up.

On days where he smiles softly at Rin, sleepy green eyes barely open and clouded with the haze of dreams, Rin thinks of fringed orchids and kisses Makoto's brow, trails down the line of his jaws, and licks the tip of his nose almost playfully.

By the time he pulls away, Makoto has usually drifted back to sleep, a content smile on his lips.

**――-o0o――-**

Makoto tugs at the sleeves of Rin's  _haori_.

"Stay?"

"What, you're not going to eat breakfast?" Rin laughs, leaning back down into Makoto's arms and closes their distance in one smooth movement. The breath that slips off Makoto's lips is weaker, but Rin steals that, too, so that's okay. "Wake up, lazy bum."

"Don't wanna," Makoto whines. "I'm comfy."

"You're not five," Rin flicks him gently on the forehead, feels the weak shake of Makoto's shoulders instead of hearing his chuckle. "Are you going to stay in bed all day?"

Green eyes brighten fractionally. "Like the good old days, Rinrin?"

"I'm going to murder you."

Makoto's laughter is loud enough, this time, to echo in the scant spaces between them. Rin threads his fingers in gray hair, runs them carefully, enjoying the warmth born between them―together, together.

This is  _their_ miracle.

I'm really happy," Makoto says, too weak to even tug the corners of his lips into a smile, but his fingers, buried in the red strands of Rin's hair, never stops moving. "I'm really, really happy."

Rin kisses the center of his chest, listens to the steady thump-thump-thump that echoes under his ear. He's waiting, he realizes, subconsciously counting each breath that goes with a soft beat in Makoto's chest, like a countdown to the inevitable end.

"Tired?" He murmurs, feels rather than hears Makoto's breathless laugh rumbling in his chest, frail and oh-so ready to crumble.

"Mm." Sleepy eyes look down on Rin, crinkled with laugh lines and age, and when Rin raises his hand to trace them, there are stories carved in each line, each wrinkle―of promises and struggles, of hopes and achievements, of happiness and contentment. "You'll stay?"

"Yeah." Rin doesn't talk much. He never does, when he waits and counts down these last seconds. Instead, he rises and kisses Makoto's lips―once-twice-thrice―watches Makoto's eyes flutter close with a contented sigh, and kisses them, too.

The cherry blossom tree that looms above Makoto's window is in full bloom, and Rin sees soft shades of red and white as the spring breeze breathes a flurry of petals through the open window.

Beautiful, and so very short-lived.

For once, even as beneath him Makoto ceases to breathe, Rin feels contented and happy.

**――-o0o――-**

Rin comes back to wait at the tree, returning home after a long journey.

"Hey," he says, looking up to the winding branches, the cherry blossoms already withering.

"I walked home." A chuckle, and he sits at the base of the tree. "I had a great time."

"I wonder how long will he take this time?"   _Will there be a next time?_  

He tells the tree of honey sweet pancakes, of melodies from a bagpipe.

The story comes to an end, at a petal that falls onto a rosy cheek.

**―― o0o ――-**

"It's been decades," Rin says, exhaustion clear in every syllable.

Haruka stares at him, and if Rin doesn't know better, he'd think it was pity in Haruka's gaze.

"It's been centuries, Rin." As it is, Haruka just sounds sad. "He's not coming anymore."

Clovers are swayings in the field, taunted by the breeze of late summer, fresh green in a shade  different from  Makoto's eyes. It's odd, Rin thinks, that he doesn't grieve.  Over countless lives together, even when it's not enough, he wonders  why  it's different, now. The anxious beating of his heart, the restlessness of waiting for someone bubbles away with the changing seasons.

Perhaps because this is the end of their road.

He remembers a promise made among beds of purple rock cress, an unchanging oath renewed over a cup of  _kuroki_ . He remembers the scent of the sea as he sits by the windowsill, remembers the image of the horizon stretching endlessly as waves chase each other before it.   _Let's go see the ocean together someday_ , he hears his own voice.

Right.

He still has a promise to fulfill.

The seal is no more―hasn't been there for a long time. Rin hates that it didn't fade completely sooner, because if it had then maybe they'd have a chance for their promise, but no use in resenting Fate, now. He's got things to do, before he could go see Makoto again.

"Hey, Haru," he says, a small wistful smile on his face. "Let's go see the ocean."

Haruka blinks. "What?"

Rin turns to him and grins roguely.

"Do me a favor, won't you?"

He could almost hear the ocean sings, calling.

**―― o0o ――-**

He opens an old book ― the first time in a long while, and smiles when he sees the press-dried burnet between the pages, right where Makoto had left it.

Scratchy and worn under his touch, the rumpled pages a history in itself. Some of the words had long faded, ink once a deep black now brown feathering into the yellow paper. He still remembers the words, it's fine.

A deep breath, and he sees in his mind's eye, the way Makoto had closed his eyes, chest heaving with the air that passes through his lungs and into his voice.

_"In Naniwa Bay,_

_now the flowers are blossoming._

_After lying dormant all winter,_

_now the spring has come_

_and those flowers are blossoming."_

**―― o0o ――-**

"This is the last time."

Rin watches the way shadows dance on the back of his palm, thin streams of light pass through the branches, through his fingers. 

_Waiting._

Their fingers interlaced, water sluicing around their fingertips. He feels a touch, a faint brush at his nape that fades – fades away with the weight of someone's back against his. 

He looks back, to the faraway sky behind him, to where the wind carries a lone petal towards the endless distance. 

His fingers uncurl, empty, movement distorting his own –   _the only –_  reflection in the pond.

_This will be the last time._

"Thank you. For everything." He claps his hand twice, and bows.

To this little shrine, to the old god that used to live there. For his memories, for   _him_  .

He leaves a stem of lily of the valley on the altar, letting the buds slip between the tips of his fingers. Blades of grass stains his kimono when he stands. He doesn't brush his knees, lets green tint the worn fabric.

_Repeatedly._

Haru waits for him at the pathway out of the clearing, a small smile adorning his face.

"You ready?" he asks.

One last pat to the tree, a silent farewell to an old friend, and he turns. He wonders if he's smiling right now, wonders if his smile would reach ― across the fields and to where he is. His cheeks hurt, just a little, with the warmth that reaches his eyes.

"Yeah." The sleeves of his kimono flutter with the first step he takes into the footpath. "Let's go!"

_I follow._

**――o0o――-**

They step into the bullet train towards Hiroshima.

"We could've taken the plane," Rin points out, exaggerating the annoyed tone in his voice. "I've never rid d e n  on a plane."

Haruka tosses him a newspaper. "You were the one booking the train tickets. Besides, you love trains."

"I don't," Rin tells him seriously, only to receive a raised eyebrow from Haruka. "I really don't―it's just. Things happen a lot, you know. When it comes to trains."

Haruka stares at him for a long time. Rin hastily throws his gaze away, out the window, and marvels at the quickly disappearing cityscape―the blur of skyscrapers and cars and holographic billboards, slowly turning into carpets of still-green rice paddies, gleaming under the sun after the light rain earlier. 

There's a slight pang in his chest when the realization finally crashes down: he's leaving everything behind.

He's leaving. Like Makoto, many lifetimes ago, giving him a wide smile before the train door slides back between them and off the train goes. Like Makoto, who was once taken away by the train. Like Makoto, who steps off the train car years and years ago, hands tight around Rin's wrist, pulling him off the train and into the public toilet for an excited kiss.

Outside the window, he sees empty houses in the distance, a river with a collage of reflected sunlight across the gentle stream. Unfamiliar places, and Rin wonders for a moment what stories they hold, what tales reside behind the rows of houses and cars parked in their yards.

He's not going to come back, Rin thinks with a wistful smile. He's leaving his home―the tree, the shrine, the flower field. He's going somewhere new, somewhere that's not home, but somewhere he wants to be, regardless. He's leaving to finally grasp a dream he's not supposed to reach alone―to fulfill what Makoto couldn't.

The ocean Makoto once saw―the Seto Inlands Sea―must be somewhere behind the horizon, pass the flower fields, over the stone bridge, and at the end of the tunnel.

"It just feels like the right thing," Rin says, knows that Haruka is listening even without the latter raising his gaze from the newspaper he's reading. "Taking the train. Since it takes people away, and bring them back."

Haruka hums, the sound laced with an understanding note. Rin is glad that they don't need to look at each other for this, because if Haruka looks up, Rin might just cry.

 _If I keep riding this train_ , Rin muses, as colors blur outside the window,  _would I ever reach you, somehow?_  

**――-o0o――-**

 _Welcome home,_  the stone sidewalk under his feet says.

He's not home, not really. But he's returning to a memory he shared with Makoto, a memory of a place where dreams both begin and end.

_Only this time―_

"I'm here." he says to Haruka, not quite believing. " _I'm really here!_ "

**―― o0o- ――**

It's quiet, up here where they stand on the on top of the cliff, a clearing secluded by rows of trees and patches of comet orchids among a lake of bluebells. Haruka looks incredibly at home, clad in his simple light blue jacket and jeans attire, nearly blending into the shades of blue swaying in the wind.

Takehara―one of the borders of Seto Inlands Sea, with highlands that make Rin feels at home, somehow. He's been tied to the cherry blossom tree almost his whole life, and while he always dreams of the ocean, the mountains bring their own comfort with their greeneries and flowers, a beauty unrivaled even by the dancing waves kissing the shore. Haruka stands silent next to him, eyes fixed down towards where walls of waves crash into the cliff, sending droplets of water so high, both of them could feel the tiny splash.

"I want to swim," Haruka says almost longingly, and Rin barks a laugh, shoving his shoulder good-naturedly.

"Swim all you want, but you've got to do what you come here for first, stupid."

"Impatient," Haruka mutters, but when he looks up at Rin, there's a hint of loneliness in his gaze, quiet and reserved the way he always is. "It doesn't make any difference if we do it tomorrow."

Rin gives him a rogue grin. "You have a date tomorrow."

Haruka's eyes soften, and he huffs very quietly. "Sousuke won't mind."

The bluebells that surround him sways prettily in the early summer breeze, accompanies the easy lines of Haruka's shoulders, and Rin looks at this quiet boy, who is inexplicably tied to both him and Makoto and remembers everything, never falters in his steps and has always been there―

_"I wonder why Haru-chan doesn't have anyone tied to him through time. Like we do."_

Maybe it's to them that Haruka is tied, Rin thinks. He bends down, fingers reaching to pluck a handful of bluebells, burying his face into the bunch of flowers and inhaling their scent. Shades of blue, like the water, like the ocean, like Haruka.

Like _gratitude_.

"Haru," he calls, casually. Haruka turns, eyes careful, and Rin throws the bluebells upwards, lets the droopy petals rain down over their heads, and as if the world understands, the early summer breeze picks up, scatters them all over the clearing, blows them through Haruka's jacket, into the strands of Haruka's dark hair, through the gaps of Haruka's fingers.

Rin's lips curve into a genuine smile. He closes his eyes, pictures Makoto's smile, and says, "Thank you, Haru."

Haruka's throat works, lips opening but finding no words.

He sighs then, bends down and plucks one lone comet orchid, lets the wind kidnaps it from his palm and into Rin's hair. Rin laughs, funny that everything is approppriate, even as he feels Haruka's power envelopes him, warm and comfortable, taking him away, promising a bridge towards something he needs, someone he wants to see. The world is slightly paler now, the colors of the petals―deep blue and striking yellow―too bright as a pale haze settles in his vision.

He reaches one hand out as Haruka does the same, curls it into a fist and bumps it gently against Haruka's palm.

"Thank you," he says again, but the words comes out as a breeze, lost in the air, and Rin watches the tips of his fingers slowly blur. He laughs, almost giddily, at the anticipation of going, of being  _free_.

It's always Haruka who sets them free.

"Goodbye, Rin," Haruka says, quiet if a bit lonely, but his lips curve up into a small, contented smile.

Rin gives him one last grin, and feels the last of him fade with a fierce swirl of petals―blue and yellow and crimson―smelling the salt in the air and the hum of the mountains, and the last rush of memories retained for hundreds of years.

Just an arm reach away, there's a gentle smile and a soft laughter, and a voice forever missed. The welcoming scent of spring, he returns, under a rain of cherry blossoms where he saw green eyes widen in surprise. The scent of a beginning, the taste of   _kuroki_  in soft kisses, a sense of   _home._  

"I've been waiting for you, Rin."

A petal falls on the water's surface, a gentle ripple across the reflected blue of the sky. A lone comet orchid that sits in the midst of swirling cherry blossom petals―a silent  _forever and always, with you._  

**――-o0oFINo0o――-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dayflower: Nostalgia  
> Gold-banded lily: Enjoyment of life.  
> Blue hyacinth: Constancy.  
> Cosmos: Harmony.  
> Spider lily: Fear, sad memories.  
> Rose: Love.  
> Ammobium: Unchanging oath.  
> Forget-me-not: True love.  
> Nemophilas: Prosperity.  
> Dogwood: Returning to you.  
> Fringed orchid: I see you in my dreams.  
> Clover: Pensive feelings.  
> Bluebell: Gratitude.  
> Comet orchid: Forever and always, with you.

**Author's Note:**

> Us in the beginning of suggesting AU: "HAHAHAHA BAJAJ DRIVER, BECAK DRIVER--ooh mortal and immortals sounds painful let's go 8D"  
> Us in world-building phase: "HOW TO MAKE THIS EVEN MORE PAINFUL pfftt let's just BS all the historical stuff and focus on pain and angst and fluff, what is research, let's make this a series of SHORT vignettes"  
> Us actually working on fic: "research on flowers research on architecture research on shintoism research on OLD JAPANESE PERIODS???? TIMELINES!! research on war research on places locations poems JP street performers rivers OCEANS"  
> ^is literally what happened.
> 
> Also, alternative summaries:  
> (in which Makoto usually dies young. Except for the times he's extremely lucky.)  
> (in which Rin's life is hard. The end.)  
> (sharing memories when you kiss force you to learn to talk. Especially when you have to do it every single fucking lifetime)  
> (in which somehow this turns out to be more Marinka than Makorin. We don't know either.)  
> (Brought to you by the gods: Afternoon Soap Opera: The Tale of Makoto and Rin.)  
> (warning: multiple character deaths. Don't worry, by the time you reach Showa, you're probably immune to the pain.)


End file.
